


I Can't Keep My Hands Off of You (And I Don't Want To)

by LydiaOLydia



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Dr. B is only briefly in it, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I Don't Even Know, Lydia is a matchmaker, Penelope is oblivious, Schneider is oblivious, Slow Burn, fake dating (kind of), ridiculous fluff, special guest appearance by the support group ladies, the whole family is in on it, this one is going to get out of control I can tell, tropey goodness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-12-07 11:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOLydia/pseuds/LydiaOLydia
Summary: After Schneider breaks up with Avery, Lydia decides she's going to find him someone.  "A nice Cuban girl."  Penelope is not so sure this is a great idea. . .





	1. I Am Trying to Be Realistic Here

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on the fence about actually publishing this, but I love this ship so much, how could I not put something out there?
> 
> The fic title and all the chapter titles are from "Then Ok" by Julia Nunes. Beautiful song.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little prologue to set our scene.

 

It was a miracle Saturday afternoon in the Alvarez apartment. No one was home. Elena was out with Syd on a protest/date. And yes,  Elena said the slash out loud. Hashtag teenagers, Penelope thought.  Alex and Lydia had gone clothes shopping. Penelope had given them a budget (maybe even gently brought up the thrift store as an option), but she could hear them cackling before they'd made it all the way out to the hallway. Even Schneider had pottery class. He'd really been throwing himself back into his hobbies since the (very amicable, very classy) breakup with Avery. So unless Dr. Berkowitz had a weekend emergency, her schedule was clear for a bubble bath and red wine.

She already had on her oldest sweats, a beat up Army shirt, and her hair scrunchied up. Maybe she would have even more than one glass of wine, if she was feeling fancy. It had been a long week, okay?

She was breaking out the Mr. Bubbles when her phone chimed. It was Schneider's custom ringtone, some creepy duck noise he'd programmed in when she wasn't paying attention. It was annoying as hell ( _it's a Canadian loon, Pen. I'm sharing my cultural heritage_ ), but she couldn't figure out how to change it. She debated pretending she hadn't heard it. Mentally she was already in the bath. That had to count for something, right?

But she wouldn't really relax until she checked the message. She huffed out a breath and forced herself to look.

\- **Can U come up? I need my bestie**. - Then a bunch of emojis, most of which she didn't recognize, but there were a few weepy faces.

This sounded like a serious time commitment. Plus, shouldn't he be at pottery? She set the phone down gently and started to tip toe away as if Schneider could see her.

 _Wonk, wonk_ went the freaky duck again. She cringed, but walked back and picked up the phone.

\- **Pretty please? With literal sprinkles on top? I already have Moose Tracks *and* Chunky Monkey out**. - Ice cream emoji.

She chewed on her lip. - **This isn't a trick to get me on your podcast again, is it?** -

- **No, but Snow Globes and Seahorses hasn't been the same w/out U.** -Snow and globe emoji, blue wave and horse emoji, pouting emoji - **This is real emergency. swear 2U.**. - Prayer hands emoji.

She gave one last longing glance at her stack of People magazines and bottle of Merlot. She could make an excuse to bail on him, but then he'd probably just come downstairs. A Schneider emergency could mean anything from a severed thumb to a lost pair of designer sunglasses. Still, duty called.

**

He was already waiting for her in his doorway, miserable and wrapped in a very expensive cashmere blanket. Red, puffy eyes blinked behind big, black frames. Her nurse instincts kicked in. Hand to forehead. Not clammy. No obvious fever. Pulse, respiration and color normal. He wasn't clenching or grabbing anything in pain.  If she was at work, she'd send him home with a lollipop, an Iron Man sticker, and a pat on the back.

Not sick.  Hmm. This was not good. Sick would be easy to fix. She didn't say anything, just raised her eyebrows as a silent question.

Schneider let out a gusty sigh. "It was my turn to bring snacks to pottery, but then I ran into Avery at Whole Foods. Right in front of our favorite cheeses."

So it was exactly what it looked like. Penelope folded him into a hug and ushered him to the couch at the same time. Everything else could wait. She kept her arm loosely wrapped around his shoulder and leaned in close.

Schneider put his head in his hands and stared at the floor. "It hurt so damn much. It's been almost a month. I thought I was better, but then I saw her holding a giant wheel of brie. She gave me this little smile and it was like. . ." he let his words trail off.

"Your whole entire body turned inside out and your guts spilled on the floor?" She said, thinking of the encounter with Max at Victor's wedding.

"That is both disgusting and accurate.  How do you do it, Pen?  How do you put your whole heart out there every time?" His voice broke a little.

She patted his leg. "I can't be any other way.  To put yourself out there and feel something real, it's the only thing that's worth it for me."

"Well, I'm not sold on the concept yet.  The last time I had a serious girlfriend, I was twelve.  It involved giving her your favorite troll doll and holding hands behind the bleachers."  He looked up, a puzzled expression crossing his face.  "I never did get that troll doll back."

"Do we need to get Nick?"

"I talked to him. and I feel a little better. But you know what would really help?"

"Ice cream and a stupid movie? I'm taking a wild guess." She pointed at the Kleenex, ice cream pints, and two spoons already lined up. His lighting was already dimmed down to movie theater levels.

Schneider nodded silently.

They situated themselves and negotiated who got which pint with a minimum of fuss.  This was a full on, no bowls situation that much was clear. 

"Want some cas?"  He offered up part of the dark green blanket.  It was huge and ridiculously snuggly looking.  There was room enough for probably all the Alvarezes, much less the two of them.

"I mean, I don't want to get used to this level of luxury, but sure, why the hell not?"  She propped up her feet on the fancy schmancy reclaimed wood coffee table and tucked herself in, gasping when the blanket fully touched her skin.

"Oh my god, this is like baby angel butts! That's how soft it is."

"I know, right?" Schneider said with at least the tiniest hint of a grin, settling in with the remote.

She took a bite of Moose Tracks, digging to get an extra peanut butter cup chunk.  Maybe this wasn't as blissful as complete alone time in the bathtub, but it wasn't so bad.  At least that's what she thought until she saw Schneider's movie choice.

"Four Weddings and a Funeral?" She groaned. "Why are we watching a romantic movie about pasty ass English people?"

"Because it's about love." There was the slightest hint of a wobble in his voice. So she got him a tissue. Then the whole box. She knew how he could be once he got a good cry going.

"Well, I'm glad you picked a movie that was going to make you feel better," she said sarcastically. But she took a of another bite of ice cream and vowed to shut up and be a good friend. Truthfully, she hadn't been too surprised by the break up. Avery and Schneider had seemed to be drifting apart for a while. They never acted angry at each other, but they never seemed happy either.  It still hurt to see him brought low.

They watched Hugh Grant fluster about without any of their usual running commentary, but when the weird looking Scottish guy got up and gave his funeral speech, she heard a suspicious sniff. She scooted closer and found his hand under the blanket. Then she didn't let go. Instead she found one of his silver rings and turned it around and around, feeling the breadth and length of his fingers under hers. He glanced over at her. She couldn't really read his expression from the flickering light of his massive TV. He didn't say anything, just wove their fingers together. She had teased him before about having the delicate hands of a geisha, but damn if his hand wasn't big, and strong, and warm in hers.

This should feel weird, right? Sure, she was affectionate with Schneider, but holding hands? For more than like a minute?  She ran down the mental list. No naked body parts (not anything strange anyways), no tongues involved. It had to be 100 percent platonic, right? But somehow, she knew if Elena or Alex, no, if her mother walked in right at this moment, she would feel horribly awkward and guilty. So she eased her hand away, waiting to see if he'd react, but he didn't. When the movie finished, they sat there in silence for a while.

Schneider cleared his throat. "You believe in that, right? Eyes meeting and boom. " He made a ridiculous exploding noise with his mouth. "Game over."

"It worked for my parents. Sometimes it worked a little too well." She gave a theatrical shudder. "I can never erase some of those memories."

"How about you and Victor?"

"Did you not hear he proposed on our first date?" Penelope chuckled and then shook her head. "We had the thunderbolt. And the storms to go with it. I had it with Max too.  Things still didn't work out."

Schneider fidgeted with the empty ice cream cartons. "No thunderbolt with Mateo?"

"I mean, more like when you zap yourself with static." She poked his arm. "Zzztt. It wasn't like the real thing. Maybe there won't be any more thunder bolts for me." She sighed. "Now I'm getting depressed. What about you? Lightning and thunder?"

"That's what I thought Avery and I had." Schneider's lip quivered.

 _Carajo _,__ time for a distraction. "Hey you want to come downstairs? It's almost dinner time. Mami is making arroz con pollo tonight. One of your favorites."

Schneider scratched behind his ear and resettled his glasses. "Nah. I'm not very good company right now. "

 Her heart squeezed with a little bit of fear and sadness. It wasn't like him to turn down an invite. Ever since his relapse, there was a tiny part of her that wanted to have him nearby, to keep a closer eye on him. But he was an adult. It had to be his choice, not hers.  "We want you over even when you're not in a great mood, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm just going to work on my screenplay and my moisturizing. "

She was ready with a snarky comment, but he had that sad, shattered expression on his face again. "Okay, but you can come down if you need to. Any time. I mean it. "

She leaned over and gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek. His scruff tickled her lips in a way that made her miss having a man around. Amazingly, he didn't smell like fancy products, just clean skin. She pulled back, not too far, and her gaze got caught up in dazed blue eyes, staring back. Something curled inside her, hot and low in her belly. It wasn't a thunderbolt, it was more like. . . coming home from the beach. A day where you spent so long in the sun that you were glowing from the inside out. Not a burning spark but something warm and indescribable.

She sat back, a little thrown. _Wait what _?__

Schneider smiled, not noticing her confusion. "Usually I have to go to your mom for a cheek kiss. What was that for?"

She patted his hand, lost in her own thoughts. "Don't give up on love so easily, Schneider. You're a good guy. It's going to find you someday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been percolating in my head for a while, ever since I heard Lydia say in the Season 3 finale that fixing up Schneider was on her "bouquet list." I have to be honest, it blew up into a much bigger story than I expected. I'm neither a super organized writer nor a super fast writer, so I won't make any promises on how much I'll update or how long this will be, but I'll do my best.


	2. We're Gonna Be So Sorry Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is in motion. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and kind words! The next two weeks will be crazy, but I managed to squeeze in an update. I'm trying to keep my chapters short in the hopes it will help me update more often, but once again, no promises!

Over the next couple of days, Penelope told herself the . . . whatever she felt for Schneider was a nothing, a fluke.

He wasn’t her usual type, but he wasn’t an ogre either. Nice smile. Pretty eyes. Tall. More lanky than she went for, but it wasn’t a bad package. If she (occasionally) noticed, it wasn’t the end of the world.

She managed to keep those thoughts shoved way down. It helped he was, well, Schneider. Always there, sometimes ridiculously sweet, but often just ridiculous. And she was doing fine. Until the sex dream. It wasn’t a super sexy sex dream, which made it even more irritating.

Schneider was making her muffins in her apartment. Shirtless. Which was strange, but totally on brand for him. She was wearing an unfamiliar yellow sundress, sitting on the butcher’s block in the middle of the kitchen. That was the first clue something was wrong. If this was real life, Mami would tell her to get her _fondillo_  down and away from the food. The old panic surfaced and she tried to pull herself out of the dream. She forced herself to stop and take a deep breath.

Pam was always telling them in group to step back and observe thoughts and feelings without judgement. Why not try it? Whatever the heck was going on here, it was better than dreaming about Afghanistan again. She could snap herself awake if it went wrong.

So she kicked her feet, admiring the super cute sandals she could never afford in real life and half listening to Schneider prattle on about the farmer’s market and goat’s milk. She allowed her mind to wander, not caring where the dream was going for once. Relaxing, enjoying, absorbing.

He finished the story and grabbed the muffins at the same time, placing them carefully on the stove top. He pulled off the oven mitts one at a time with a flourish as if he was doing a magic trick. He strolled over to her with a lazy, flirty smile. Her heart started to pound faster. Time to take another deep breath. In through the nose, out the mouth. Mmm, sugar and spices filled the air, strong enough she could almost taste them on the tip of her tongue. Her body relaxed a tiny bit more. This was her friend. He wasn’t going to hurt her.

He settled between her legs, casually, as if he did this every day. His eyes were very blue up close, like Windex blue.

“So, we’ve got blueberry chia seed and squash feta," he said. Schneider had to be so extra, even in her dreams.

“Sounds good,” she said brightly. “I’ll have some of both.”

He rested one hand on her hip and leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. “But, Penelope,” he drawled, giving careful pronunciation of each syllable, “Are you sure you know what you really want?” He placed his other hand on her knee and rubbed gently at her sundress, back and forth, each move sliding the fabric up, inch by slow inch.

And -- damn it, she woke up, restless and sweaty. She thought about the fact that Schneider was only one floor away and probably awake. He wouldn’t be surprised if she knocked on the door in the middle of the night. He wouldn't say no to well, anything. After all, this was a man who considered himself a master of the casual hookup.

She let herself think about that option for one minute. Then she hauled herself out of bed and starting googling “perimenopausal sex dreams’’ in an effort to reassure herself this was totally and completely normal. 

So when she awoke to the scent of Café Bustelo and the sounds of Johnny Pacheco the next morning, she was a little unnerved to find Schneider dancing in her living room, as if she had conjured him up in another vivid dream.

She rubbed her eyes. Rubbed them again. Nope, still here. "What is going on?"

"Morning, Pen!  Your mom is going to fix me up with someone. She said it's time for me to get out there again." He bounced and spun to the music without stopping. 

 "Your love life involves my living room why?" She gave him the full raised eyebrows.

 Her irritation slid off him as usual. "She’s already got someone all picked out. She said my date was Cuban and I needed to work on my dancing. She put on some music and said something in Spanish. I'm not sure I understood, but was this maybe the soundtrack to your conception?" He crinkled his forehead, like he would be pondering this all day.

She waved her hands in aggravated disgust. "Ugh, why does she keep telling that story? And you and _una jeva cubana_? There isn't enough drama around here? _"_

Schneider gave a fond smile and opened his mouth.

 She held up one finger to stop him. "Whatever it is, don't say it. Not before I’ve had my coffee.”

 He snapped his mouth shut again. A concerned look flitted across his face. “Do you want me to go?”

 Schneider volunteering to leave? Was this her lucky day? She toyed with the lapels of her robe and shrugged. “It’s Saturday morning. The kids won't be up for hours. It’s been a while since I’ve had some free laughs. But if you start wearing a fedora again, I’m staging an intervention. Where is Mami anyways?"

"She had to run to the store for something she'd forgotten. Your cafecito's on the counter.” He gestured while still salsa-ing, almost tripping over himself in the process.

Forgetting to buy something? From a woman who lived to shop? That didn’t sound like Mami. She made a mental note to get her mother's senior wellness check up scheduled soon. She mulled it all over, letting the familiar dark heat of the cafecito wake her up. Questions started bubbling up in her brain.

"The other day you were heartbroken over Avery and saying you didn't think relationships were for you. This isn't the starter wife thing again, is it?"

"Nah. I thought about what you said, about how putting your whole self out there is worth it. I wouldn’t mind dating someone seriously again.” He paused, tucked his thumbs back into the back pockets of jeans, a little sheepish.

She frowned and took another sip. “You never dated before. You hopped around from woman to woman like a horny rabbit on espresso.” 

"I want to try one more time. Then if it doesn't work, I'll crawl back into my luxurious man cave and die alone." 

"You shift gears fast." Not that she cared. She didn't. She drummed her fingers on the table. “It's not cousin Consuelo is it?"

Schneider stopped to think for a minute and swigged from his water bottle. "Is she the one with the mustache or the one with crazy eyes?" 

"Mustache. Crazy Eyes is Juanita Ojitos. But you know, the mustache isn't too bad." She tilted her head and tried to imagine the two of them together. Consuelo was gorgeous (even with the mustache), but she was also sometimes mean. Could he handle that? Under his goofiness, he was kind of defenseless. 

She finished up her coffee and was about to get dressed, but then she stopped and really looked at Schneider's gyrating. This was painful. Penelope was only an okay dancer. Her mother, "La Reina," never let her forget that. But you don't grow up as the daughter of  Lydia Margarita del Carmen Inclán Maribona Leyte-Vidal de Riera and not learn some things.

She tied her robe tighter and braced herself for the work ahead. "Okay, you’ve got the basic steps, but your form and your rhythm needs some work.”

"Like this?" And he made a pitiful attempt at an Elvis hip swivel. Why had she been (briefly) attracted to him again? In the light of day, it seemed crazy.

"Let me show you, hold on." She stepped in front of him and tapped at his knees with the tip of her foot. "Soften these a bit."

Schneider obediently sagged his legs. "Now what?"

"Brace yourself. I'm about to get all up in your business." She walked in closer, reached around, and grabbed him by the _nalgas_.

"Uhh," he said, at a loss for his usual snappy patter.

 "Calm down. I'm just trying to loosen up these white boy hips of yours. Put your hands on my waist. No lower. Got it?" She gave a lot of emphasis on those last few words. 

He placed his fingers loosely on her sides. With her short arms and his long ones, it was slightly awkward. It would have much more natural for him to slide them farther down, but yup, no, not going there.  _Not ever_ , she reminded herself.

"All right. Now follow me." She counted off to the music in her head and pulled him forward, trying to guide him where he needed to go.

After a few fumbling moments, it worked. Maybe they wouldn't make it on ‘Dancing With the Stars’, but it was getting the job done.

 Then she realized how weird this all was. She wasn't used to this, trying to teach the guy how to lead, but it wasn't the worst feeling in the world. His designer denim was whisper soft under her fingertips. His full attention was on her and his very large, very male body responded to her every move. It made her powerful in a way that had nothing to do with being an ex-army badass. Ugh, it killed her to admit this, but it was a little hot. The sun glow was blossoming again, starting deep and curling up to her chest.  _Double ugh._

“So what is this song about?” He asked out of the blue. 

She never thought too much about music, it was just a constant backdrop to her life. But she suddenly painfully aware of the fact the radio had switched over from Celia Cruz and her mami's other standards. The DJ was playing salsa romantica now, the sort of cheesy, sort of sexy ballads of her childhood that were all about kisses, and beds, and bare skin. And her hands were still all over that flat ass she claimed to have zero attraction to. Her face flushed with real heat. In front of Schneider. Maybe even heat for Schneider? What was the world coming to?

_Stall. Say something. _“I’m a dance instructor and now I’m a translator? What’s next, you want me to chew gum and pat my head at the same time?”__

____

“Yes please, that would be awesome.” He smiled down at her, eyes twinkling, and it felt normal again. He's the dumbass; she's the smartass. All was as it should be. But the warm ember didn't fade away. Not quite. 

____

“Hellllllllllllooooooooo,” Her mami trilled as she waltzed through the door, breaking the moment.

____

Penelope stepped away from Schneider and put her hands on her hips. “Oh look, it’s the Yenta of Echo Park herself.”

____

Lydia set her grocery bag on the dining room table. “ _¿Quien es Yenta_? ¿ _Es la novia de Paco_?”

____

“No, Yenta isn’t Paco’s girlfriend. Don't play dumb. I’m talking about you, Mami. You’re meddling again.”

____

“Me?” Her mother said, batting her eyelashes.

____

“Yes, you!  Now you’re finding Schneider a girlfriend? Interfering in my love life isn’t enough for you?" Penelope's adrenaline response kicked in, ready to go another round in the constant battle with her mother.

____

“Hmm, _no me gusta _this word, meddling. I’m not meddling. I am helping! He is lonely and we’re going to find a beautiful, charming woman to take care of him and make him happy.” Lydia walked over to Schneider and gave him one her classic hugs which was actually half snuggle, half grope.__

____

____

____

He squeezed her back, pure adoration in his eyes, and disentangled himself. "Sorry I'm bailing on breakfast,  but it's acro pilates fusion day at the gym and if I shown up late all the good trapezes are taken.” He breezed out without any further comment, as if that was a totally normal statement to make.

____

____

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Penelope waited until he was gone to turn back to her mother. “Mami, what is going on here?"

____

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Lydia flicked her nails on a imaginary piece of dirt on the dining room table. "You want your best friend to spend his life alone?"

____

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"He's not alone. He has us."

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"He is man and he has needs." Lydia pounded on her chest dramatically. "And I know you don't see it, but he is _guapísimo_. If I was not so devoted to my Berto and maybe twenty years younger. No ten years younger. " She dragged her hands over her hips.

____

____

____

Penelope put her arms in the air to stop the verbal onslaught. " _Ay, por dios_ , stop! I don't need the visual. And Consuelo? Come on. You know how she is." She made a glug glug gesture with one hand. "It wouldn't be good for him to be around her."

____

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____

"It is not Consuelo, little miss knows so much." Lydia tried to end the conversation by walking into the kitchen and pulling out the frying pan.

____

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Penelope followed her, refusing to give up. "Is it Yennifer? Because she's got five Persian cats and he's allergic."

____

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"No it is not Yennifer either." Her mother made an irritated clicking noise to show what she thought of Yennifer.

____

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 "Well, Cristina has got that off and on thing with the Dominican, so I know you're not going there."

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 Lydia cracked some eggs into a pan and said nothing.

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 "Are you going to make me list every single Cuban woman south of Malibu?"

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Lydia shrugged. "Why stop at Malibu?"

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 Penelope gasped. "You're not going to fix him up with one of those cousins in San Francisco? He hates what the marine layer does to his hair." She didn't care about seeing him. Not really. The kids and her mami would miss him. That was all.

____

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____

 Her mami wagged a finger. "If I did not know better, I would say you were _celosa_."

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"Me, jealous?” Penelope laughed. “I'm trying to look out for him. His life, being sober, depends on routine. He needs to be careful to not have too many changes.”

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“Mija, he’s been sober for almost a year. Staying busy. Going to meetings. He can make some time for _amor_. Or is it you do you not think I'm capable of picking out Schneider's  _media naranja_  , his future wife? Me? Who knows everything about love and romance?" Lydia finished her statement with a dramatic arm flourish.

____

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"Future wife?” Penelope snorted. “ He just split up with his first serious girlfriend. Ever. Don't break the mantilla out yet. "

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 Her mother flipped an egg. "I think when you find out who I have picked out for Schneider, you will be happy. Surprised, but happy."

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 Penelope shook her head. “You can't run his life for him. You're not his mother, Mami.”

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Lydia smiled her mysterious smile. “Neither are you, Lupita. Neither are you."

____

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____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't recommend you teach someone to dance by grabbing them by the butt. Penelope was doing her best to improvise on the spot. ;-)


	3. If We're Careful, Maybe This Will Be All Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope looks for allies, but without much success. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize in advance, this chapter is a bit shorter and more of a bridge to the next part of the story. I promise next chapter has lots of Penelope and Schneider content. ;-)

By the time the kids had stumbled out of their bedrooms, Penelope had a plan to get them on her side. She had even turned on the air conditioning to butter them up a little. And as a bonus, it covered up the sound of the Rhees’ crying baby downstairs.

Soooo, air conditioning on, check. Everyone’s favorite pastelitos from Porto's, check. Forehead kisses all around, check. She settled in her chair and grinned. She would nail this and Mami was going to have to sell her crazy elsewhere.

"Announcement time!" She made a little drum roll on the table. “Guys, your abuelita thinks she can find Schneider a girlfriend. Can you believe it?”

Both of them shrugged, clearly not awake enough to pretend to be interested.

“Old news, Mom," Alex said while staring into his phone.

“Wait, you both knew about this?” There went the element of surprise, her first advantage. “Elena, come on. Your abuelita trying to find a girlfriend for Schneider? It’s oppressive. It’s heteronormative temporality." Her tongue tangled over the last few words, but she was proud to spit it all out.

Elena beamed with joy, but then she mumbled something down at her plate.

"I'm sorry? What was that?"

Elena took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and put on her best debate face. “While I agree that matchmaking reinforces a disgusting outdated patriarchal system and a is throwback to when women were property, I also believe that Schneider is an adult and is capable of making his own decisions.”

“Schneider? Capable of making his own decisions? Do you not remember last week when he decided to use wasabi in his potato salad instead of Hellman's? We thought the roof of his mouth was going to peel off,” Penelope said.

Elena blinked, now a little less sure. “Uh-huh. It’s none of my business.” She said the last part through gritted teeth.

Penelope leaned back in her chair. This was all starting to make sense. “Wait a second. I get it now.”

“You do?” Some sort of strange panic crossed her daughter’s face.

Penelope smirked. “This is your little trial run for when you turn eighteen and you think you can get that nose ring.”

Alex slumped down, making himself smaller and wordlessly preparing himself for the missiles that were about to fly.

Elena rocked back in her chair, copying her mom’s pose without even realizing it. “I’m going to be an adult and legally -”

Penelope held up one hand. “Legally? Excuse me? Do you not understand how this works?  _Mientras vivas aquí_ -”

“ _Harás lo que yo te diga_.” Lydia finished for her. Then she smirked at both of them. “ _Que bien_ that my daughter remembers that now.”

Penelope groaned. She had walked into that one. Okay, Regroup. Time to look for a new ally. She tried to turn subtly in her chair.

"Alex, you're with me, right?”

Alex tensed, realized he wasn’t in trouble, and then grinned. "I don't know. It’s not the worst idea to get him a girlfriend. The church ladies have been circling him for a while. They can smell fresh blood.”

“What do the viejitas at church have to do with Schneider?”

“He’s been taking us to Mass on Sundays. Everyone knows this,” Lydia said, waving her tostada around and perfuming the air with carbs and butter.

“He has?” Why was she the last person to know anything around here? And why did she find have to find that so damn sweet?  

Alex nodded. “Yeah, he drops us off and shops at the farmer’s market before picking us up again. The viejitas spotted no wedding ring. From the parking lot.” Alex said, awed and freaked out all at once.

"How nice that they’re using their superpowers for something so important.” Penelope took a savage bite of guava pastelito, wiping off the crumbs tickling her lips.

“The Range Rover probably didn’t help either,” Elena mumbled under her breath. “He could get something less conspicuous and more fuel efficient.”

“Besides, he's played the field long enough. It's time to give someone else a turn." Alex popped his collar in obnoxious bro fashion and rested his chin on his hand, ready for his close up.

Penelope pointed a fork at her son. "Okay, yeah, we're going to talk about that attitude next, but am I really alone on this one?"

Elena cleared her throat. “Syd said it was adorable. They even made a spreadsheet for first date ideas. We thought Schneider might like yarn bombing or maybe Color Me Mine. You know, cute old people stuff.”

Penelope wanted to ask about yarn bombing ( _what the hell was that?_ ) but she was distracted by more important things. “Syd knows about this? I suppose Dr. Berkowitz is planning to be the ring bearer at the wedding.”

Lydia snorted. “ _No seas ridicula_. Leslie would be a terrible ring bearer. He tends to trip over his own feet when he’s under pressure. Trip more than usual.” She corrected herself.

Penelope sighed. “No one thinks this is crazy?”

All she got were three identical blank stares.

"Mom, Avery made Schneider really happy. Why wouldn't you want him to at least try to find somebody?" Elena asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Penelope scrambled to think for the next point in her argument when there was a loud pop. The kitchen lights flickered out and the air conditioner gave a death rattle. As if on cue, the baby downstairs started wailing.

“Great, a tripped circuit. Again. Wonder how that happened?” Penelope glared at her mother.

Another fight was brewing, but Elena was already running to grab her keys for the building’s main access panel. Alex decided this momentous event required a new Instagram story. He retreated to his bedroom which had all his styling accessories and the best “soft, natural light.” So that was her children’s priorities taken care of. Good.

“Mami, how many times have I told you not to plug in your curlers when the AC is running? There’s a heat advisory today. We’ve got to keep our priorities straight.”

“You want me to show up at Aldi’s looking like a wild animal?” Mami patted at her hair and then harrumphed. “Air conditioning. Back in Cuba -”

Penelope knew where this was all going, she’d heard the same tune a million times. The tension climbed up her neck. Her shoulders hunched up, almost on their own. She stood up to make her exit, refusing to get into it today. Mami had won the battle, but not the war.

“-And you can’t leave yet, you haven’t eaten your tostada, after all the hard work I put in for this breakfast -”

Penelope slammed her fist on the table “Enough, Mami! I’ve told you those things are a heart attack on a plate, but you just won’t listen.”

“I don’t listen? _Que _funny -”__

____

In all the squabbling that followed, Schneider's new romance was forgotten. But Penelope knew there was only one course of action left.

____

***

____

"You went into hiding?” Ramona said in group, her voice rising in disbelief. “Wow, you served in Afghanistan, but you're a coward. Who knew?”

____

“No, she’s not hiding, she’s pouting.” Cynthia said, folding her arms. “Her emotional support pet is being adopted into a new home and she can’t handle it.”

____

“I’m not pouting! Or hiding.” Penelope said. She shifted from side to side.  _Squeak, squeak_. All the new technology in the world and high schools still had cheap, creaky plastic chairs. “Anyways, they're the ones being ridiculous. I chose to make a strategic retreat. I’m being an adult. Quality alone time is really nice. Going for walks, catching up on laundry, staying late at work to do some paperwork. It's just a coincidence I'm always leaving when Schneider stops by."

____

“So, hiding,” Ramona said.

____

“Pouting,” Cynthia said.

____

“Hell, I’m pouting! That dude has been single for over at month and you didn’t tell me? Tell your mom there are some good women out there that aren’t Cuban.” Jill pointed at herself.

____

Penelope snorted. “I think she may have gone too far this time. What’s really freaking me out is that she won’t tell me who it is. Schneider didn't know either. I don’t want some mail order bride showing up on my doorstep.”

____

“You haven’t done any recon on this woman?” Ramona sucked some air in through her teeth. “Oh yeah, this could be bad.”

____

Penelope shrugged. “She’s being super weird. All I know is this chick doesn’t smoke cigars or have cats, so his lungs are safe. Mami says she’s cute, but not as cute as she is, so it could be anyone. It could be Eva Mendes for all I know.”

____

"Eva Mendes is okay, but Rosario Dawson . . ." Ramona waggled her eyebrows.

____

“Trust me, Mami thinks she’s hotter than both of them together,” Penelope said.

____

Pam clapped her hands. Loudly. “This has all been interesting, but I think you need to ask yourself something. Penelope, why do you care so much?”

____

“Me, what? I don’t care. Not that much.” Penelope jiggled her leg in time with the buzzing fluorescent lights.

____

A roomful of skeptical faces stared back at her. There were a few “hmmms” and “ummms” of doubt. Was she sweating or was that lingering teenage hormones in the air?

____

“What? He’s my friend and I don't want him to be lonely." She bit her lip. "But this is way too soon. My mami is a bulldozer and he's a complete marshmallow for her. She's going to have him married off with an adorably gordito baby on the way before his third date."  

____

"Is Schneider an adult?" Pam asked.

____

"Technically, yes," Penelope said, rolling her eyes. "Although you might think otherwise if you saw all the crap he buys off Etsy."

____

"And can we protect other adults from their choices?"

____

Penelope shook her head. "No, we can't. I can't." She rubbed her temples. "Can we talk about somebody else? Ramona, you go off on anyone this week?"

____

Pam glanced at her watch. “Actually, we’re going to have to end here. You know, it’s scary when our friends evolve. We feel we’ll get left behind. But we’re all capable of real, genuine change even if it’s not easy. Stagnation can stifle us if we’re not careful. Maybe that’s something we all can think about until next week.”

____

 As everyone else filed out, Penelope lingered back in the classroom, alone with the chalk dust and her thoughts. Why was she having such a hard time? It wasn't any of her business if her friend wanted to go out and get his heart broken.  She stared off into space for a few minutes, but it felt like forever.

____

When her mind was finally calm, she turned off the lights and closed the door, ready to go home, but quietly hoping Schneider wasn't there.

____


	4. But You are Caffeine and . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Car rides are good for difficult conversations, right?

 

Penelope knew her luck at avoiding Schneider wasn’t going to last forever. Sure enough it ran out later that week. Her phone buzzed right as she was wrapping another super fun extra paperwork day at work. The office was empty and half dark and the noise made her almost jump out of her skin.

“Hello, Sweetie.” a sultry English voice practically purred. Ah, Elena then. What was it now?

**-I know I said I’d swing by with Abuelita and pick you up from work today, but I volunteered for the Prom committee. Alex is already at Finn’s. Mrs. Wallace is giving me a ride home.  No freaking out, please, please, please-**

Penelope wanted to argue, but she was mostly confused. **-Does PROM stand for People Respecting Orcas and Manatees?-** Winky face.

**-Ha. Ha. Ha. Yes, I’m on a dance committee. Really.  They had a last minute opening. The high school counselor said it would help me appear more well-rounded. -**

 Panic set in. **-Where** **is Toni Braxton?-**

**-Toni is parked safely at the garage at home and Abuelita has the keys. (And I still like the name Gamora better) -**

**-Soooo, does this mean you’ll go and I get to take a million cute pictures of you and Syd?-**

She expected an all caps ‘no’ with lots of exclamation points, but instead the message dots swirled for a while and she got -

**-Maybe?-**

Penelope grinned.  She'd take it. **-Kick butt. Take names.  Security guard walks you two out to the parking lot. Carry your Mace. In your hand! Not your backpack. Don’t worry about me, baby. I’ll take the bus. -** She capped it off with a kissy face. She was such a cool mom, right?

**-You don’t have to do that. Schneider’s at his favorite jam and preserve store a few blocks away. I texted him already. He’ll be there in ten -**

Her stomach shriveled in fear. Then she told herself not to be ridiculous. It was a short ride, not a marriage proposal.  There was a limit to how much she could twist herself in knots trying to avoid someone she considered her best friend.

So she sent back a thumbs up sign and did her best to quiet her thoughts.

She chatted to the cleaning ladies for a little bit, but she didn’t want to be in their way. She made her way down to the street to wait. It wasn’t anyone’s dream spot, but there was a uncomfortable bench under a spindly tree and at least their block hadn’t been discovered by hipsters yet. There were no microbreweries or gourmet pet stores, just a few offices, a check into cash storefront and a pupusas takeout place.  Her mouth watered thinking of food, but no, no time for that. Just get home already. A few people passed by, intent on their own errands.

She cupped a hand to her face to shield it from the sinking sun. It was almost summer and the sunset was late. Had she really been working that long? And why had she forgotten her sunglasses today?

People walking toward her were vague dark outlines until they got close. A man in the distance caught her eye. She couldn’t see much, but there was something about him. Taller than most people, lean hips. He moved with an easy loping grace. It seemed familiar in a way, but she couldn’t figure out why.

It made her body zing where she had not zinged for a while. _Dang, girl, calm down. He’s not even a man at this point. He’s a glorified cardboard cutout. Ugh._

She willed herself to turn in the opposite direction and count to ten. Long shadows stretched out in that direction, almost to a vanishing point. She had to start trying to get out of work a earlier. She might as well be a vampire who never saw the daylight.

And you know what else? She needed to get laid. It had been too long if the vague shape of a possibly available man was enough to turn her on. No wonder she’d been having all those weird feelings for Schneider.

When she turned back, mystery man was a block closer.  The glare still dazzled her eyes, but she got more an impression of color and shapes. Dark jeans. Light colored T-shirt.  The pace of his stride nagged at her. It brought back some feeling. Why did she recognize him? Was he a patient? Then he tossed one arm up in the air and waved in a jerky movement.  He had a shopping bag in the other hand.

_Oh. No, no, no._

It couldn’t be a shopping bag with some sort of crazy fig preserves and boysenberry jam. The type of fancy stuff only a spoiled rich guy would make a special trip to buy. Please, please, no.

But a few steps more and there was no denying it. Sexy walking man was Schneider.

She allowed herself one tiny internal scream.

How did they even greet each other? Think, think.  Why had all information left her head?

Now he stood in front of her and it was just Schneider, but the glow had turned into a freaking disco ball, spinning and scattering light and glittery warmth inside of her.

Be cool, be normal. She stood up and wiped her suddenly slick palms on her scrubs and offered him a fist bump. Fist bumps were normal.

He gave her a puzzled smile ( _damn, not fist bumps then_ ), but tapped his fist against hers.

He was different somehow. _His hair_. It was less hipster crossed with fifties greaser. Shorter and softer, somehow.  Nice to touch, maybe.

“Did you cut your hair?” Her voice sounded oddly breathy to her own ears. 

“Yeah. Alex’s idea.”  He ran his fingers through his hair, a little self conscious. “Feels strange.”

She bit her lip. “Nah. It’s nice.” If this was a few weeks ago, she might have stretched up and tousled it. But touchy-feely teasing felt dangerous now.

 _Change the subject already_. “This is LA. Any reason we’re walking?” 

Schneider flashed his ultra fancy hiking watch, “Got to get those steps in. I parked a few blocks away. Hope that’s okay.”

She shrugged. “Sure, there’s nothing I love more than walking after a long day on my feet.”

There. Closer to their usual vibe, but now he looked genuinely upset.

She held up her hands. “Stop with the puppy dog eyes. It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ve been sitting and doing paperwork for the last hour anyways.”

They walked back, Schneider slowing down so she could keep up with him. She kept taking quick glances of him, like she was taking tiny sips of water instead of gulping.  All of the sudden, he had manifested this “man aura” out of nowhere. It was distracting and unfair.

They made it to the Range Rover without any major incidents, although at one point she almost tripped over her own feet from her lame attempts to check him out. Schneider opened her door for her (he always did), but didn’t make any snarky comments about how she had to hop up to get in. A definite first.

“Straight home?” He drummed his fingers on the stick shift.

“Yeah, straight home.” When did luxury SUVs get so small? Every inch of her skin prickled at how close he was and the smell of real leather had never been an aphrodisiac for her before, but damn if it wasn’t doing something now.

Schneider didn’t offer his usual blow by blow recap of how he had filled the minutes of his day with online shopping, exotic gym classes, and new hobbies. Maybe they could drive in silence. Sure, that would happen because they were both good at being quiet.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to ask this straight out. You’ve been weird lately. Are you taking your medication?”

 _Oh, they were going there, huh?_  Her jaw clenched. “Yeah. I’m taking my meds. Are you going to your meetings?”

A low blow, but he nodded, unfazed. “Yup. Nick asked me the other day where my cute friend was.”

Pen’s brain fizzed, latching onto a distraction. “How exactly did he say cute?  Was it cute?” She squeaked her voice like someone talking about baby bunny videos, “or was it like cuuuuuuuuute?” She dropped her voice low and stretched out the last word like caramel.

“The second, I think.” He chewed on his lip, voice uncertain. “Anyways, you have his number. Call. Ask him out.”

Penelope closed her eyes and tried to picture Nick, one of the most gorgeous men she’d seen up close in real life. Zip. Well, that was disappointing.  “Nah.”

Schneider tried to make a clucking noise, but it was a bit like a sick turkey.

“Oh shut up.” She slapped his arm and resisted the urge to let her hand linger there. “I’m not chicken. It’s. . . complicated.” Which sounded super lame even to her.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around right now.” He mumbled under his breath.

“What?” She glanced over, but he stared at the gridlock ahead of them.

“Nothing. Okay. Time to debrief. We’re both doing everything we can to be our fabulous selves. You’re not interested in Nick, even though he’s catch.  Are you ever going to tell me why you have such a bug up your ass these days?” His tone was light, but he gripped the steering wheel.

“What are you talking about? There’s no bug.”

“Oh there’s a bug.” He vaguely gestured. _God, why couldn’t she stop staring at his hands?_ “A Goliath beetle or a tarantula. Something massive.”

“Let’s drop the insect thing already, please. What the hell are you talking about?”

“Penelope Alvarez does not run from anything. She is a badass and a good friend, but you’ve been AWOL for _Proyecto Amor_. You don’t respond to the group texts or add any helpful comments to the Google Doc.” He jutted out his chin, ready for her to fight with him.

 _Let it go, Let it go like Elsa, baby._   She squeezed her fists. A million disjointed thoughts tumbled through her mind. _Yup, going to say it, couldn’t help it_.

“You know if you stick your dick in some girl it doesn’t mean you’re Cuban?" She said it all in a rush before she could stop herself.

 Schneider chuckled "Actually -"

 She groaned. "Ugh, I know, you're a regular United Nations in the bedroom. That's not what I meant. Exactly."

"What did you mean? Exactly." His voice was strained. it was anyone else, she’d say he sounded pissed off. But Schneider never got really angry. Ever. 

She tried to read his body language, but he was holding himself still, face forward. The sunglasses hid his eyes, which usually told her everything. He was almost like a stranger. _A hot stranger._

 She took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to to say is Mami is going for this full tilt. Everyone's excited to fix you up, but you don't need some new _novia_ to be part of this family. You don’t have to do anything to earn your place, you’re already there. I'm saying it. Out loud. To you. Officially."

His lips twitched. "Could you maybe record that into my phone?"

 "Don't push it."

His mouth curved upward slightly. Everything felt blissfully normal for a moment.

She decided to tell him more of the truth, if maybe not the whole truth. Car rides were good for tough conversations, right?

”Schneider, you are an amazing person. Really. You are full of excitement and energy. It makes you fun to be around, but it also means your highs are high and your lows are low.” 

His smile wavered. “And you’re convinced if this goes sideways, I’ll relapse.”

“I’m not sure I could put the kids through it again and,” she rubbed at the slick black leather ( _so she wouldn’t reach out and touch him_ ) “if I’m being selfish, I’m not sure I could go through it again.”

“You’re not selfish. You’re human. It scares me too." Schneider sighed. "Honestly, it feels harder this time. I don’t know if it’s because I’m older or maybe I forgot how difficult it can be. It’s been over a year, but some days I wake up and I can still remember the taste of Hennessy on my tongue.”

“Yeah?” Her gut twisted.

“Yeah.” He said softly. “Or how cocaine made me feel superhuman and self-destructive all at once.  Wonder Woman crossed with Lindsay Lohan.”

“This isn’t helping.”

He glanced over at her, really looking at her for the first time in this whole drive. His mouth was in a straight line again.“But you know you’re not responsible for my addiction or my recovery. _La mujer misteriosa_ won’t be responsible either. I am.”

“Logically, I know that, but when your whole life has been about protecting people and fixing people, it’s hard to stop.” She pressed her lips together. It wasn’t the whole story, but part of it was out at least.

“It’s harder this time, but my motivation is stronger this time too. I’ve got a lot more to lose. I don’t want to mess up anything with your mom, or Elena and Alex.” He paused. “Or you. You guys are too important to me now. I almost lost all that. I would have deserved it if I did.”

“You wouldn’t have deserved that,” Penelope said, crushed at hearing how he felt.

Schneider shrugged his shoulders. “All I can do is get up every morning and try to make the right choices. Even on the really hard days.”

“How do you manage to make me feel better and worse at the same time?”

“It’s a gift, I guess.” He gave her a little half smile, nothing special, but the new sparkles were there, quieter, but still shimmering right under her skin.

Okay, this crush (she could admit it to herself now, whatever, stuff happened) wasn’t a big deal. Crushes were embarrassing things, but they came, they went. She had a crush on Yunior Montes for all of eighth grade, but then she saw him pick his nose, rub it on his Trapper Keeper, and she was done.

This was going to be the same. She knew lots of embarrassing stuff about Schneider. Blackmail level material. This would fade. It had to.

No, what made this (temporary, in no way serious) crush difficult was if it was anyone else, the person she would talk to about it would be. . .  Schneider.

“Anything else we need to talk about?” He asked. “How to solve world hunger? Why Dr. B wore those Day-Glo suspenders the other day?”

She **could** tell him. She toyed with the thought for a minute. She could tell him anything and he would listen without judging.

 _Hey Schneider, I kind of want to make out with your face. Let’s pull over somewhere and see how terrible it is on a scale of 0 (immediate brain bleach application) to 10 (we ruin our friendship forever and possibly get arrested for indecent exposure_ )

All sorts of unspoken possibilities hung in the air between them.

She shook her head. “Nah, let’s just get home already.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos. I hope this long chapter makes up for my shorter, Schneider free one last time. The next one should have lots of interesting developments too.


	5. And I'm Staying Up All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain things are revealed and discovered in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! I appreciate everyone for waiting so patiently. I was punched in the face with lots of ridiculous feelings over the Game of Thrones finale (I'm still not over it and there may be a modern AU in my future) and it was hard to tap back into my "romantic comedy" voice. This still isn't quite how I want, but I made a commitment to finish this and I will. Just very, very slowly :-)
> 
> Also, I think I've fudged Elena's graduation timeline a bit. It may be something I will go back and tweak with, but if I don't, please just humor me.

Penelope was tucked into bed, reading over an article about carpal tunnel syndrome and desperately trying to stay awake when there was a loud pop and the lights went off. She stomped out into the living room, ready to give her mother hell.

“Really, what is it? Your curlers? The iron? What is so important you’ve got to trip a breaker at,” she checked the clock, “ten at night?”

Lydia shook her head. "It’s not me this time, mija. Look out the window. The whole neighborhood is out.”

Penelope walked to the kitchen window to peer out past the fire escape. Mami was right. The whole neighborhood was dark, with a few lights shining. Flashlights, candles, businesses with generators, but nothing like the usual busy electric glow. Fantastic.

Her mother patted her shoulder, her touch soothing and too much all at once in the moment. Penelope gave a frustrated shrug and then grabbed her mother’s hand, silently asking for forgiveness and receiving it all at once in an answering squeeze.

Lydia cleared her throat. “You need to go upstairs to see if Schneider knows what’s going on. He might need our help.”

"I'm in my pajamas!" Penelope gestured downward.

" _¿Y que?_ Schneider has seen you _en pijama_ before. "

"Yeah, but -" She wasn't about to point out to her mother she was wearing a T-shirt over shorty shorts. She certainly was not going to mention the weird vibe lately. If she tried to change her clothes or god forbid, said something, her mom would comment on why did she have to dress like a hoochie and bring shame on everyone, yada, yada.

"Mami, text him. He’s the landlord. He’s the one who should be checking on us."

Her phone was dead, uselessly plugged in now thanks to the lack of electricity.

"Oh I did the texting already." Lydia gave a halfhearted glance at her phone. "I think it is broken. "

"Send Elena up then. Isn't she super in training?"

Lydia clucked her tongue. "Pobrecita has fallen asleep. She studies so hard. "

“Alex can go.”

“He needs beauty sleep. We have to maintain beauty _siempre_.” Mami patted at her hair. "Please, Lupita. Some people in this apartment are sooo old. They could need extra help.”

Penelope held up a hand. “I’ll go. I’ll go.” She knew there would be no rest until she did. Her mother had already steered her into the living room and was practically pushing her out the door. 

"Take a candle with you.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "¿ _La Virgen o Jesus_?" She asked, waving at her mother’s knick knack shelves.

"Oh, I bought you your own candle. It has no pictures and smells like sandalwood."

"Thank you.”Sometimes her mom really could be so sweet.

"I knew you would love it because it is so boring. And put on my robe.” Her mother was already wrapping it around Penelope as she finished the sentence. “You look like a _puta_."

Yup, there it was. Right on time. No winning. "Wow, Mami. You're such a huge help."

Sarcasm was lost on her mother, of course. "Anytime, mija.” Lydia was already pushing her out the door.

Penelope didn’t have to go all the way upstairs because she ran into Schneider in the hall. He had something on his head that looked like an REI wet dream version of a coal miner’s helmet. She laughed. She couldn’t help it.

"Pen, hey, what's up? Everybody okay?"

"Yeah, I was just checking to see if you needed help."

"We're good. The Rhees have a cooler filled with ice for the breast milk, Mr. Roth has new batteries for his flashlight, the McGurbs have my spare Coleman lantern, so they don’t trip on the way to bathroom.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll go back to bed." She turned to open the door.

“Or . . . " Schneider drew out the word and grinned when he saw he had her attention again. "SoCal Edison said the electricity should be back in a few hours. Want to go check it out from the roof? Should be an amazing view with the lights off.”

She shifted the candle back and forth in her hands. “Hang out with the bird poop and cigarette butts? No thanks.” She wasn’t about to admit to him she was afraid of the dark, a little bit. 

"We’ll bring up beach towels. And look.” He fished around a fanny pack. His hand glowed with pastel lights. “Glow sticks!”

She crinkled her forehead. “Please tell me those are not leftover from some old rave.”

“Nope. My kickball league does night games. These are part of the treat bags.”

“Of course.” She said flatly. Because something juvenile could always be made even more juvenile. She did miss hanging out with Schneider. Just friend time. He hadn’t even made any comments about her skimpy pjs, which was weird. He never passed up on a chance to make something inappropriately sexual. Maybe hanging out would extinguish the annoying crush. He’d be obnoxious and she’d be cured. Aversion therapy.

Apparently her brain was taking too long to process everything because Schneider tilted his head, sending his beam of light in crazy directions. “Are you in or out?”

She shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Schneider whistled and swung his key ring around a few times, bubbling with joy over simple things in a way that was so him. It did smell like cigarette butts when they got up there, but the musky sandalwood smell mingled with it. Voices drifted up from the streets and the nearby rooftops. Someone was already grilling hot dogs. Janet Jackson blared on what had to be an old boom box. Pen settled onto a beach towel. She scratched at the rough loops, the sensation grounding her. Schneider scattered around the glow sticks. They didn’t give off much more light than the candle, but they made the ground glow eerie pinks, greens, and blues.

He sprawled next to her, propped up on his arms. He was only a shape against the sky, but it felt right to have him there. He seemed bigger and taller than usual somehow, laying beside her in the pitch black, but still weirdly comforting. Familiar, mostly. Safe except for the little edge of awareness in her blood. The one that wouldn’t quite go away now. This was still more normal than they had in awhile. Maybe because they were in a wide open space for once and she knew he wouldn’t be able to read her face in the dim light. She shifted her legs, trying to get comfortable.

Her bare knee brushed his and she almost yelped out loud from the shock of contact. So, okay, maybe not completely normal, but whatever. They would get back to normal. Somehow. Someday. She inched away. He’s your friend. It’s a crush. This shimmery tingling feeling will pass. Besides, “perfect girlfriend” is showing up any day now.

She glanced over and noticed he was staring intently. At her feet, maybe? No, not her feet. She tried to follow his line of sight as best she could in the dim light. He was . . . checking out her bare legs. She was reasonably sure. Which let’s be real, wasn’t unusual. This was where she would snap her fingers in irritation, say something like “Eyes up here, Slick,” they’d both laugh and move on. But she sort of didn’t hate it? That was new. Instead she just draped the robe so she was more covered up, maybe still _escandalosa_ , but not quite _sinvergüenza_ level.

“Are you okay? too cold?” His voice held a tinge of worry.

“Nah, I’m a little creeped out, honestly.” She’d never come up here without Schneider, not that she'd ever tell him that.

“Wait, is certified badass Penelope Alvarez afraid?” He was teasing her. Definitely getting back to their regular routine.

“Do I sleep with a night light on like some people? No -”

"-It’s a high tech motion sensitive lighting system - "

Penelope continued on. “But, yeah, I grew up in a city. Real dark darkness is weird. All those country noises people say are ‘so peaceful' freak me out. Bull frogs. Bugs. Coyotes.” She shivered. “I’d rather hear car alarms and blasting music, thanks. Maybe some couples fighting or babies crying. It made basic training and Afghanistan that much harder. When you’re out in the middle of nowhere, it’s pitch black.” She tapped her palms on her thighs, her blood humming. “Gets spooky real fast.”

“Ready to go inside?”

“Nope.” It surprised her to say it, but she didn’t. Part of her wished she could pull down all her barriers and curl up beside him, but the vague of idea of _la novia ideal_ stopped her. And maybe she was being a big fat chicken. That too.

“If you’re afraid of the being out in the country at night, we need to replace the bad memories with good memories. Ooh, I’ve got it.” He had that boyish excitement that meant he was planning something outrageous. “Glamping! We’ll all go.”

She chuckled. “Schneider, I only sleep in a tent when I’m being paid to by the US Government. Can you see my mom in the woods? Or Alex, for that matter.”

“No, this is great. I bought this top of the line stuff. A solar cooker, an eight person tent, gore-tex sleeping bags -”

“-Did you buy this stuff when you were hooking up with the crunchy granola girl? What was her name again, Cocoon?”

“Chrysalis was an amazing, loving soul. Although she did threaten me in some pretty creative ways with those chakra crystals when I broke things off with her.”

“Hmm, probably should burn some healing sage with the camping equipment before you take it out.”

“Yeah.” Schneider said, totally unruffled by her tone.

Another thought bubbled up. She spoke before she could stop herself. “Besides, what’s your new girlfriend going to think about you taking a whole other family on vacation?”

“She’ll understand.”

“Wow, you’re building this chick up to be perfect in your head. For everyone’s sake, I hope she lives up to the hype.” She didn’t sound jealous, did she? Nah, no way.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe in me? That I want to settle down and this might work out? You’re bringing a real negative energy here.”

"Because my mother is pushing this like she’s selling Amway and I don’t think you’re capable of saying no to her.” _Also everything about you is confusing me lately._

“I said no thank you to a second helping of empanadas last Tuesday.”

“Seriously. Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me this is what you want.”

Schneider moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders. His fingertips warmed her skin, but his touch was light, no pressure at all. Now his features were clearer. Her eyes traced the tilt of his head, the angle of his jaw. His glasses glinted by the light of the sliver of moon. If he leaned closer, he could kiss her. Or maybe she could kiss him. He took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll tell you what i want, what a rilly, rilly want -”

Of course he was going to make a joke. She pushed him off. “Okay, Maple Spice, yes, thank you. I’m trying to say if this woman is some backup plan for Avery, that’s not very fair to anyone.”

“Avery? Oh, yeah. Avery. Well, you can’t always get what you want.” Penelope braced herself for him to break into a Rolling Stones riff, but Schneider just turned away and stared out into the dark. Maybe he was still more upset about Avery than he could admit. Laughter floated from a nearby rooftop. They sat so long without saying anything she thought the topic was dropped.

Schneider finally made a little humming noise. "What I had with Avery was nice, but she didn't get how committed I was to _mi famila_." He shrugged. "Maybe somebody who was from a similar background would get it a little easier."

"Sure, but she's going to have her family baggage too." Penelope started ticking them off on her fingers. "Her papis, her abuelas, her tias. Probably at least one brother who could kick your ass.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” There was a tiny quiver in his voice.

“I’ll do my best, but you’ll have to be tough under interrogation, soldier. Until you prove yourself, this family is going to be keeping an eye on you. Twenty-four. Hours. .A. Day. Are you sure you can handle it?”

"For the right person, sure,” he said with easy confidence. _Lucky girl_ , some terrible, terrible traitorous part of her brain thought.

"I don't look forward to her mother crossing paths with Mami, that's for sure. I can't believe she’s is willing to give up her role as the most important woman in your life. What’s the deal with dream girl anyways? Are we ever going to meet her? Is Chris Harrison hiding her until the rose ceremony?”

“Your mom said she’ll introduce us at Elena’s graduation party.” Schneider fiddled with his glasses. He was nervous. That was kind of cute.

Penelope closed her eyes, visualized the calendar on the fridge covered in stickers and scribbled notes. “That’s only a few weeks away.”

“Fifteen days.”

Pen tapped her fingers on the beach towel, thinking. “Not a typical first date.” It did make sense, in a weird way. Mami had insisted on renting a hall and inviting half of LA. Her mother was the original social network. _La mujer misteriosa_ could be in that crowd.

“You know Lydia. Go big or go home.”

“Oh yeah, she’s been making this party a big production all around. It’s the only way she knows how to be, but she’s driving me crazy. She keeps nagging me. Lupita, buy a new dress. Lupita, make an appointment to get your hair done. Don’t forget to pluck your eyebrows, you look like that Ernestito from Sesame Street.”

“She wants you to feel confident and look your best.”

“Yeah.” Penelope chewed on her lip, still stuck in her thoughts. What prep work was mystery woman doing for her big reveal? Maybe she’d jump out of a cake shaking coconuts and a Cuban flag. Penelope wouldn’t put anything past Lydia by this point. Or was her mom planning on springing Schneider on this poor lady as a complete surprise? Hmm. A cold trickle of awareness flowed down her spine. What if. . .? Nope. No way. But all the pieces started to tumble into place, one by one.

 _"¡Que tonta soy!_ " Penelope smacked herself on the head. “I figured out who Mami trying to set you up with."

"What? Oh my god, spill. So you do know her?" Schneider might have sounded like a girl at a slumber party. 

"You could say that."

"What's she like? Smart, funny? Any allergies I should know about? Gluten free? Paleo?"

Penelope couldn't help but laugh. "You already know her too."

Schneider's gasp was worthy of a telenovela. "So it is Consuelo _con el bigote_."

"No, it's not Consuelo. It's me, dummy." She waved her hand back and forth between them. "You and me. She is trying to get us together."

"Wait, what? That makes no sense."

"Oh. she thinks she's so smart. Come here for a second." She slid in closer and he mirrored her. They were so close, his breath tickled her neck now.

She messed up his hair ( _it did feel soft_ ) and unbuttoned a few of his buttons. Maybe she let her hand linger for a minute on his chest, but she wasn’t shaking. Not so he would notice anyways. Was his heartbeat pounding fast or was that her imagination?

"Okay, now do me."

"Wait what?" His words were pitched deep and resonant, doing something to make her stomach flip and turn.

"Mess up my hair. We’ve got to look like we had a make out session and then blow my mom’s mind. Come on, buddy, keep up.”

Schneider mussed up her curls, gently like he was petting a skittish animal. His hands felt good. She tried not to imagine them trailing down lower. Janet was singing about the way love goes. Her warm velvety voice floated through the night air, bringing back memories. Great, Penelope already felt like a ridiculous fourteen year old. This was not helping. She snapped her fingers. “Oh, you know what would be perfect? Lipstick."

"Yeah, but who carries lipstick in their paj-" he broke off his sentence as Penelope pulled some Scarlet Sunrise out of her mami's bathrobe.

"I should not be surprised by that."

“No, you shouldn’t,” she said, stretching her mouth so she could get the lipstick from edge to edge.

Schneider had an alarmed look on his face.

“C’mere." She smacked her lips.

 He frowned. "No."

"Don't be a baby, it's nothing, a little peck.” Who was she really trying to convince? Him or herself?

She tried not to think about what she was doing and grabbed his face. Then she froze. What the hell was she doing? They sat there for a minute, staring into each other’s eyes. _Drop your hand. Tell him it was a joke. Do anything but make it stop._

This was not the act of Mom/NP/Responsible Adult Penelope. This was the act of wild hormonal Penelope. That Penelope grew up a long time ago. It had always been her job to draw the lines with Schneider, so she needed to do it. Now. But she couldn’t, caught up in something she couldn’t quite explain or maybe didn’t want to. She could see him now because she’d adjusted to the lack of light. The glow sticks scattered different colors across his face, giving it all a surreal and slightly ridiculous feeling. He was so close. A shiny bubble of awareness floated between them. The slightest move would pop it.

In the end, he was the one who leaned down and brushed her mouth with his. His lips were sticky soft with some sort of fancy organic honey beeswax stuff. Because course they were. It wasn't a long kiss or particularly passionate, A little awkward with his glasses still on. No tongue. She'd had to give longer kisses to some of her tias growing up, but somehow his hand landed on her waist, solid, warm, and with the right amount of weight to it. She tipped more towards him and was about to open her mouth when suddenly they were flooded with light. They sprang apart like they both had been slapped. Applause echoed from every corner.

Okay, come on, it wasn’t that great a kiss.

Schneider swallowed hard. “Power’s back on.”

_Oh yeah. That._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, Lydia isn't powerful enough to engineer a blackout for the city of Los Angeles. She's just very resourceful and quick on her feet. 
> 
> I hate to say this, but the next chapters will probably take time. Originally, this was where the story ended, but I had little moments keep bubbling up in my brain. I have individual scenes jotted down, but the connective tissue will probably come much more slowly. I promise I'm turtling away at it, even if you don't hear from me for a while.


	6. I'm Not Stupid Enough to Believe (That I Could Just Kiss You and Leave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope and Schneider take their act live for the first time. It does not go as well as they hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given up all attempts at making these chapters equal length and going with the flow even though it pains my sense of order.

 

As they walked back downstairs, Penelope’s jitters gave way to excitement. She paused in the hallway.“Ready to do this? You’re not nervous, right?”

“No way. Your mom loves me. She literally hand picked me for you.” Schneider gestured at his whole body, including a Canadian Tire ( _say what?_ ) t-shirt. ”I’m a curated selection, sweetheart.”

“We definitely need to have a talk about pet names. You are not calling me that in public. Ever.” She tried to say it with her usual mix of frustration and fondness, but there was a playful edge in her voice that was almost flirty. _Oh god, not good_.

“Besides, why would I be worried?” Schneider shrugged. “Won’t your mom be asleep?”

She gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding? She is sitting on the couch right now staring at the door with her laser beam glare. She’s probably melted a hole in the wood already.”

“Okay, now I’m nervous.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. She tried to not to get distracted. Not just by his hands, but his mouth. She remembered the soft pressure of his lips, but what would he have tasted like if . . . she gave herself a mental shake. Nope, nope, nope.

“Scared is great. Your freak out will help sell it.” She would take everything she could get. “So we went up on the roof, things got romantic, you’re my boyfriend now.”

He grinned. “Diving right into the deep end, huh?”

“Be glad I’m your girlfriend and Mami isn’t waking up her priest. Okay, before we go in here, let’s see your best ‘I’ve got a secret' face.”

Schneider crinkled his eyebrows and gave a slight frown. He looked ridiculous. Why did she have to find it adorable? She wanted to press as quick kiss on his cheek. _Smack that thought down_.

So, instead of blurting out what she was thinking, she said the second thing that came to her mind. “It looks more like you’re working on a really hard suduku problem, but I’ll take it.”

Pen unlocked the front door, beating Schneider to the punch for once. He reached over her with his crazy long arms ( _totally_   _not checking out his biceps at all_ ) to launch it open with his usual pizzazz.

She slapped his hand away. “Stop! We’ve got to open the door like we’re sneaking around. Weren’t you ever a teenager?” She hissed in her best stage whisper.

Schneider gave a dry chuckle. “Oh, people have to care about you to make sneaking around worth it.”

She felt a familiar tiny stab of loss at Schneider's lonely childhood. She petted his shoulder lightly, made a big show of putting her fingers to her lips, and gave the door a gentle push.

The lights were all on, but it wasn’t just her mother waiting for them. Lydia, Elena and Alex were all up, trying to give off the impression they all happened to be parked on the couch in the middle of the night.

The casual scene was only slightly ruined by the fact Mami was reading a collection of essays by Audre Lorde and Elena had just buried her face in a copy of _Hola!_   Pen had to say, Queen Leitizia of Spain was making those metallics work for her. Eh, maybe they’d both learn something. Alex was the only one who made it look natural. He wasn’t fake chilling so much as he was actually falling back asleep.

Penelope plastered on a fake smile so wide her dimples hurt. “Good. Great. You’re all here. At once. That’s awesome.” She could do this. She was an amazing liar.

Lydia plopped the book in her lap and widened her eyes in fake shock. “ _Nena_ , where were you? I woke up the children, I was so worried.”

Penelope fumbled for Schneider’s hand and squeezed it. He gave her a squeeze back. It was surprisingly reassuring. She let go, but part of her didn’t want to. Her hand seemed to awkwardly dangle by her side now.

“Well, um, we went up to the roof and, um, it was a beautiful night and ticky tocky,” she made a finger gesture with accompanying hip wiggle, “we’re dating now. So, I guess you can’t fix Schneider up with the perfect Cuban woman now, huh, Mami?” Okay, now she was really smiling.

This was when her mother would fess up and Pen would get to enjoy a moment of perfect absolute triumph. Victory would taste so sweet.

Her mother examined her nails closely. “ _Que lastima_. I will try to break it to her gently. I think this might have been her last chance.”

That _viejita_ , she was going to wring her neck.

But Elena jumped in before she could say something. “Abuelita, women aren’t defined by their relationships to men. They have worth on their own.” She put down the gossip magazine with decisive thump as if further interaction might contaminate her.

“This is all fascinating. Are we done here?” Alex yawned wide and rubbed at his eyes.

Penelope nodded. “You know what? Alex is right. Everyone go to bed. We’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

“Honey, I could use some alone time. Maybe we could step out in the hallway to say good night.” Schneider looped his arm across her waist gave her hip an affectionate pinch. Pen was about to break his fingers, but she managed to catch herself in time to make it look like a caress.

Lydia peered at them over her glasses, a puzzled expression crossed her face and then vanishing in an instant. She jumped up, clapping wildly. “ _¡Que romantico!_ ” She hustled two sleepy teenagers to their bedrooms, urging them to move faster.

“Yeah, mom, so romantic. He’s going to give me a hickey when Mrs. Garcia could step into the hallway at any minute.” Penelope shouted at her mother’s retreating back while pushing Schneider along.

Penelope waited until the door was shut, swiveled around, and put her hands on her hips. “Really? Honey?”

Schneider frowned. “So, to be clear, the hickey thing is not on?”

“Hard pass. This is not going like I planned.” She chewed on her lip.

“Wow, you think? We found something you’re bad at. You suck at this.” He smirked at her. “It’s kind of amazing. You need to come to my improv class. You’ve got some great energy, but there’s some games that could open you up.”

She decided to ignore his last comment and plow on. “This is weird. I’m usually really good at lying to my mother, but I’m off my game tonight. She’s not buying it.” She had been lying to her Mami since birth, practically. It was more art than science, but still. She thought she had it down by now.

Schneider huffed in disgust. “ Of course she’s not buying it. You almost pole vaulted across the room when I made contact. It’s like you’ve become Amish. This isn’t _rumspringa_.”

“Okay, One. I don’t know what rum springing is. Two,” She held up the warning finger to stop a torrent of words, “I don’t want to know what it is. And three, you have got to stop watching those trashy Netflix documentaries before you go to bed.”

“I’m just saying, this won’t work if you try to karate chop my throat when I act as if I’m your boyfriend. I’ve got a suggestion.”

“Well, I’m all out of ideas. Shoot.” Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“If this game is going to last, why don’t we practice touching each other, but take it slow? Like dipping your toes in a pool. An unheated pool, obviously. Maybe an outdoor one, but preferably with a cabana nearby for those sunny days. Although -”

“Some of us didn’t grow up with a pool, Schneider.” She snapped out the words.

Now it was his turn to hold up a hand. “Okay, I’m babbling about being rich, you’re being mean about me being rich -”

“So sensitive.” She shook her head.

“ - which means we’re both nervous.”

Pen opened her mouth to argue with him and then paused. “That’s actually really perceptive of you. Continue.”

Schneider took a deep breath. “You take a step towards me. I take a step towards you. If either of us wants to stop it’s okay.”

They were standing maybe an arm’s length apart from each other. Penelope took a very tiny step forward. Schneider took the next step. Part of her knew this was silly. Their movements were so slow and careful. She felt like a Disney princess having a romantic moment at the end of the movie, before the reality of living in a drafty castle set in. She moved a few more inches, but it might as well have been miles.

He shuffled his feet closer and held up his hands, a question in his eyes. She tried to say something, but her mouth was dry all of the sudden. So she nodded. He nodded back and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t pull her close, just let his fingertips settle on a distinctly non platonic part of the small of her back. She reached for his hip bones, that denim under her fingers again making her think of their salsa dance. Oh, if she thought she was in dangerous territory then. . .

He surrounded her, a comforting mix of old and new. It was melting her from the inside out. His clean skin smell, his arms. His hands. And all she could think was - _more, I want so much more_.

Then he gave a pathetic attempt at a wink.

Exasperated affection bubbled up inside her. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Why shouldn’t I be enjoying it? I’ve got an amazing sexy woman in my arms.”

She chuckled. “Oh my god, shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Can you be serious for a second?” Her words came out a little breathy in spite of herself.

“Come closer and you’ll find out serious I am.” His voice slid low, each word said with careful emphasis. This wasn’t Schneider doing his usual play flirting. This was him being very much a grown man in a way she’d never seen before. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to like it. But she did.

“Uhhh.” Now her mind went blank. Usually she’d be able to keep up with his patter and deliver a line back at him, but anything she said now would be stepping off a ledge. No, not stepping. Jumping.

Schneider leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Have I finally got you at a loss for words?” His fingers danced up and down her back.

Her shirt was way too thin all of the sudden and her skin buzzing with sensation. Her body shivered with some kind of hot anticipation. The glow in her belly was definitely active tonight, becoming more and more volcano than ember by the minute. For the second time in one night, she was losing all her grip on reason. She should be exhausted, but every inch of her felt very, very awake and alive.

She stared up at him through lowered eyelashes. What was going on? She was way too old and too smart to be standing at her own front door with these flutters below her breastbone. Her brain was spinning. She couldn’t breathe. The nurse part of her brain told her that could be a heart attack instead of a crush. She closed her eyes, picturing her blood flowing through the superior and inferior vena cava. It was her heart, but it was just an organ. It didn’t have a mind of its own.

She was about to open her mouth to tell Schneider they should slow down when the door creaked open. Both of them turned. Pen was sure they had equally guilty faces.

Elena stomped into the hallway in her favorite flannel pajama bottoms and Marie Curie T-shirt. “Busted!” She threw up her arms in the air and did a flailing victory dance.

Penelope shoved Schneider off of her and smoothed down her hair as an extra precaution. “Elena? What are you doing up?”

“Abuelita fell asleep two seconds after her head hit the pillow, so I’m the official chaperone now.” She pointed to Schneider. “Just remember. You have the keys to everyone’s apartment, but I’m the only one who has the key to your apartment. Don’t do anything to hurt her. I have easy access to power tools and I know how to make it look like an accident.”

Elena gave a stern frown. Honestly, Penelope felt weirdly touched and proud. But also a lot of concern.

She took a step toward Elena. “Do you think Schneider would do anything to hurt me? In any way?” She had tried to protect her daughter from the worst of things with Victor, but even as a little girl she had always been very perceptive.

Elena wrinkled her nose and then beamed. “Honestly, no, but I always wanted to make a big melodramatic speech. Plus it’s payback.” She gave Schneider a significant eyebrow wiggle and flounced in a dramatic turn to walk away.

Oh, they were all going to enjoy tormenting her about this waaaay too much.

“Sometimes she’s so much like her abuelita, it scares me,” Penelope said under her breath, earning a chuckle from Schneider. He pulled at the doorknob until there was a decisive click.

Then he turned back to her. “ Soo, where were we?”

Penelope scratched at the back of her neck, an electric pulse zinging across her body again. “About that -”

Now the door across the hall popped open. A little white haired lady glared out at them.

“Mrs. Garcia,” Penelope gave an awkward smile. “Imagine meeting you here at,” she glanced at her watch, “2 AM in the morning.”

“I thought you were stealing my newspaper.” She scowled at them, clenching her housecoat closer.

“No, we’re not.” Penelope held her hands open wide. “No paper, see. Paperboy is probably on his over right now.” She refrained from telling Mrs. Garcia she was single handedly keeping the print edition of the Los Angeles Times afloat.

The older woman’s mouth twitched. “I know what goes on with your generation.” She clucked her tongue in dismay. “If he gets fresh again, come get me. I have a broom and I’m not afraid to chase him with it. It’s not one of those sissy plastic Swiffer things. It’s the real deal.”

“He’s fine, we’re fine.” Penelope said, already propelling Schneider to the stairs and mouthing the word, “later.” She had to get him out of here before all the noise woke up Mami and they had an old lady battle royale.

Once Schneider was gone and Mrs. Garcia had shut her door again, Pen tiptoed back into the living room. Her mother was sitting on the couch again, alone and with a crafty smile on her face.

“Ay!!” Penelope, clutched at her chest, coming closer to a real heart attack this time. “Mami, I thought you were asleep.”

Lydia gave an impressive flip of her wrists. “Please, I wanted the children to think that I was asleep so we could _como se dice_? Dish.” She rubbed her hands together in delight. “Tell me everything.”

Penelope shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Her mother pouted. “You don’t want to make your mother happy? Fine. You and Schneider, you will need to be alone sometimes now you are dating. Of course, the children and I will be fine if you want to spend the night in his apartment."

Penelope raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, what?"

"¿ _Qué_ what?"

"Did you see my mother anywhere? She's a sweet little old Cuban lady. About so tall.” Penelope held her hand in the air. “She’s very Catholic. The pope is her homeboy. She must have been replaced by a pod person."

" _No me hables asi_. I am not old!"

"Really? Something is going on. I hope it's not dementia because my devoutly religious mother did not just go tell me to go have sex with my new boyfriend."

Lydia gave an expansive shrug. "You're not a young woman anymore. Who knows how many years you have left?”

Penelope laughed. "Oh so you're not old, but I am. I love that logic."

Lydia held up her arms in mock surrender. “Okay, so sensitive. I won’t be excited for you.” She made a comically frowny face. “And anyways. . . “ She let her words trail off.

“And anyways, what, Mami?” Now they were getting to the bottom of it all.

“ _Es obvio que_ you two aren’t very comfortable together yet.” Her mother smoothed down her nightgown, implying so much with those few words.

Lydia Riera, the queen of mixed messages. Be sexy every minute of the day, but not so much you're a hoochie or a _sinvergüenza_. No matter what Penelope did, it wasn’t right. Was it possible to literally see red? No, it was more like white light flashed behind her eyes.

So she opened her mouth and said the first thing she thought of. “Oh yeah? We have a big romantic date planned tomorrow. Then a sleepover. Not the kind with Twizzlers and movie marathons. So there.”

Lydia leapt up and rushed in for a hug, babbling a mixture of Spanish and English about how her daughter wouldn’t be a _solterona_ after all. Penelope rolled her eyes, but hugged her back. Meanwhile, her stomach was dropping to the floor like it was on an express elevator.

_Crap. Her and her big mouth. What now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: I'm not saying all Netflix documentaries are trashy, there are so many very well-regarded ones! But I think we all know what kind of "docu-dramas" Pen is talking about.
> 
> The next chapter should be their date, although we may have some interludes along the way.


	7. There Will Be Prices to Pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope and Schneider go out on their "fake date." But who is fooling who(m)?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have crammed many, many Penelope and Schneider first date cliches in here, but I know at least one fanfiction involves them going out for a fancy date and then deciding to turn around and go home. If someone can remind me of which one it is, I'm happy to leave the author an acknowledgement for the inspiration.
> 
> Also Schneider makes some short people jokes, I don't think they're that bad, but I apologize in advance.

Penelope stared at the reflection in her bedroom mirror and fussed with the neckline of her dress. It was a swoopy, drapey piece of fabric that revealed more or less skin depending on how you arranged it.  Ordinarily on a first date, she enjoyed strutting her stuff, but this wasn’t an ordinary first date. She didn’t want Schneider to get the wrong idea, but she wasn’t even sure what the wrong idea was anymore. When she had frantically texted him at oh dark thirty this morning, telling him they were going on a fake date, all she had gotten in reply was a thumbs up emoji and a smiley face with sunglasses. So if he was flustered by all this, he was giving no sign of it.

 She pulled the fabric up, giving the girls a bit more coverage.

Her mother huffed and yanked everything down again. “ _¡Y ya_ _!_ Don’t make me get out the Escotch tape,” she said, her accent stronger with aggravation. 

“Mami -” Penelope tried to put a warning tone in her voice.

Lydia continued on without any sign of noticing. “Your hair and makeup are perfect because I did them.” She patted at Penelope’s hair and dress, mumbling and making clucking noises, like a dog groomer dealing with a difficult Shih Tzu. Finally, she stepped back, beaming. 

Penelope fiddled with her lucky earrings one last time. “Well, here goes nothing."

Her mother sprang in front of bedroom door as if she was blocking a grenade blast. “Have I taught you nothing? This is your chance to make an entrance. I will present you. Then you count to ten. Walk slowly into the living room.  Don’t smile, don’t frown. You are a mystery, a woman with a secret. You must -” she gave a full body flourish - “Glow!”

She marched out without another word.

Penelope sighed, counted to ten, and strolled down the hallway feeling excited and silly all the once. This was ridiculous. _Por dios,_  was her mother going to be waiting with a sash and tiara?

When she walked out, Schneider was scrolling through his phone, probably looking at tiny houses on Instagram. Why were rich people so fascinated with stuff like that? She smiled. Even in all this craziness he was still Schneider. She took a moment to register he had dressed up, but nothing too extreme. He was still him.

“Hey guys.” Penelope did her best fake pageant wave.

“Hey, Pen.” Schneider glanced over, then shot to his feet at lighting speed. He swallowed hard. “Um, hi.”

She flushed all over. Great now, her face was glistening and her cleavage was sweaty. Her body was not getting the message this was Schneider and this whole date was just a complicated scam on her mother. Before she could come up with a snarky comment to break the tension, she was ambushed.

“Oh my goodness you’re breathtaking.” Elena squealed and started snapping away with her phone while shouting instructions like a dedicated paparazzo. The girl was amped up and really selling it. Had Mami been letting her have too many cafecitos after dinner again?

Or. . . She had to ask. “Elena, this sudden interest in photography. Is this an attempt to make me behave for your prom or for your graduation party?”

“Both.” Elena tilted the phone to get another angle.

Then Alex stepped up, but his eyes were on Schneider.  “ _Oye_. You’re going to return her by midnight and then I’m dusting her for fingerprints.” He folded his arms and gave his best attempt at a grim stare. It was alarmingly similar to Tio Fulgencio after his fourth glass of aguardiente.

Schneider held up his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, sir.”

“Alex,” Penelope frowned at her now smirking son. This was now officially too much.

Lydia raised her hands in the air like a tiny Cuban conductor in front of an orchestra, bringing the chaos to an end.  “Papito, Elena, go to the kitchen. Check to see if the ice cube tray is full.”

Elena frowned. “Abuelita, there’s plenty of ice. I just poured you a glass of lemonade.”

“Well, go do it again! Then stay there.”

They both walked off, grumbling under their breath.

Lydia beckoned them closer once the children were gone. “Now. It is my greatest wish for both of you be happy, even if I’m so very, very surprised that this happened.” She put both hands to her cheeks ‘Home Alone’ style. Then she dropped the shocked look in an instant and pointed to Pen, serious now. “You, go have fun. Don’t bother to come home before morning, I won’t let you in.”

Penelope grasped her mother’s shoulder, concerned. “Mami, are you sure you’re alright?” This was so not normal.

Lydia shrugged. “Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be? Don’t forget I have Padre Jose on speed dial if you are swept away by romance.” She made a grand tidal wave with her hands.  “We can always have a separate wedding at the church later. I will say an extra prayer tonight to Saint Joseph for your marriage to be long and blessed -”

Penelope nodded. “Yeah, there it is. She’s fine. Let’s go.”

She grabbed Schneider by the arm, yanking him through the door before things got weird in there. Well, weirder. Momentum and nerve got both of them all the way to the Range Rover without talking, but once they were inside the air was humming with the mysterious “something” again.

She tried to look at him without looking. He wasn’t as fancy as he was for Elena’s _quinces,_ with the clean shaven face, suit, and contacts, but it was clear he had put some thought into this. Schneider was a guy who knew how to dress when he wanted to. He was wearing a button down shirt, not plaid or Hawaiian hula girls for once. It was an electric blue, making his eyes even brighter. It looked like an ordinary shirt, but she bet it was probably hand sewn by tiny Italian elves and if she touched it, the fabric would be as soft as rose petals.

 _You will not be touching his shirt_ , she reminded herself sternly. But he was unbuttoned the tiniest bit, showing off the solid lines of his neck. There was a slight whiff of aftershave in the air. His beard was freshly trimmed and damn if she didn’t want to nuzzle him like he was a baby kitten. _Also you will also not be touching anything under the shirt._

She tapped his wrist to get his attention. “So your reaction earlier was. . . interesting.  I”ve been dressed up before.”

“You’ve never been my date before and I couldn’t help but notice you’re wearing your lucky earrings.” He didn’t glance away from the traffic, but reached over and brushed her earlobe with the tip of his finger. She shivered.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He let go and then kept closing and opening his fist, almost like he was looking for fidget toy that wasn’t there.

“No, it’s okay. We’ve got to get used to this, right?” She grabbed his hand, holding it a little too tight. “Just keep your eyes on the road, okay?” They kept their hands loosely linked for the rest of the drive.

 Schneider had managed to make last minute reservations at a chi chi place (to impress Mami, because she sure as hell didn’t care), but there was a huge line for valet. Penelope shifted her toes in her stilettos, already feeling them cramp up and imagining the walk from whatever miracle empty spot they found on a busy night.

Schneider looked over at her and sighed. “Do you want to go back to my place and order takeout?”

She gasped in relief. “Oh my god, yes. Thank you. These shoes are killing me.”

He juggled his phone out of his pocket. “Give me a sec to bribe the maitre’d. He’ll say we’re in a private room and can’t be disturbed if Lydia shows up.”

She felt some serious respect rise in her chest. “I’m both scared and impressed right now.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo.” Schneider said in a fake twang. “My first rodeo was in Calgary in ‘96. There may have been a little too much Molson’s involved . . . “ 

Penelope started laughing. With the pressure gone, the drive home was more **_them_**. Schneider went into great detail about his attempt to be a rodeo clown and how he was trying to talk Elena into learning Klingon with him on Duolingo.

“If you’re bored, why don’t you help her on the prom committee?” Penelope said, thinking of the group of noisy teens who had been milling through her home at all hours. Let them screech in Schneider’s apartment, not hers.

“Students and staff only, I checked. But don’t worry, I convinced her ‘A Night in Gllead’ was not a great theme.”

Penelope groaned. “Did she make you read “The Handmaid’s Tale” too? I never thought being a parent would have assigned reading.”

“She tried, but honestly, I  just binge watched it on Hulu. There’s room for some healthy criticism there and probably for Atwood as well.. . . “

The rest of the drive was filled with meandering chit chat about intersectional feminism (Elena would be very proud), her kids, his tenants, what to order on their pizza. Normal stuff. But Pen still held onto Schneider, only letting go of his hand when he needed to change gears on the stick shift. This was all for practicing their long con. It had nothing to do with his strong fingers and warm skin. Nope, not at all.

They were still bickering goodnaturedly about dinner when they got inside. Schneider hung up his keys on the neatly labelled cabinet by his door, arguing the merits of a drizzle of truffle oil while Penelope pleaded for Domino’s. 

"Your spare clothes are in the bottom drawer of my dresser.” He didn’t even glance up from the mail he was flipping through.

Penelope almost made it to his bedroom, but then pivoted on one foot. “Hold on, what do your other sleepover friends think of another woman’s clothes in there?”

“I keep them otherwise occupied. Too busy to snoop.” He leered in a way she should find disgusting, but didn’t. His face got more serious. “Besides, you know I haven’t done that for a while.”

“You’re right. You haven’t.” _Huh._ She nodded and kept walking.

He followed her, seemingly on autopilot, into the bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, kicked off his shoes. She had to admit this was kind of cute and domestic, but. . . she raised her eyebrows at him.

 He didn't even notice, just started to unbutton his shirt.

"Excuse you!" Her voice might have come out like more of a squawk than she intended. 

"What?" He looked at her with complete bafflement. 

 _How could he be so confused How!?_ "I'm changing. I’d like some privacy please!" She flailed around encompassing him, her, the bed.  _No, don’t think about the bed._

"We're dating now." Schneider said in a ‘well duh’ voice.

"We're not dating, we're pretend dating and I don't need you to see me in my underwear, thank you very much!" She flung a poofy decorative pillow at him. 

Schneider caught the pillow one handed. "I thought fake dating would be less complicated than real dating. Fine. Fine. I’m going.” He grabbed his clothes, leaving to change in the bathroom.

She shimmied out of the dress once he was gone, giving a silent thanks it was easy to get off. She was damned if she was going to ask him to help with a zipper now. But after the dress was folded on the bed, there was another layer to deal with. She had worn her best and most pinchy push up bra for maximum date effect tonight. She wiggled her shoulders, trying to imagine wearing it for another few hours. _Blech._ But of course she didn't have a spare bra at Schneider's. 

 It was normal to keep an extra set of clothes at your best friend's house. An extra pair of underwear would have crossed some invisible line. _Yeah, the girlfriend line._

She chewed on her lip, debating. Schneider had seen her without a bra on before. It was inevitable with the way he dropped in at all hours of the day. But taking her bra off in his apartment now might imply. . . intent.

But what the heck, maybe it was just the right kind of thing to remind her they were in a well established friend zone. It wasn’t like she had the young, perky body of Schneider’s typical dates. The instant she tossed off her torture device, she felt better, light and free. She sighed with relief as she slid into her yoga pants and a threadbare LA Lakers shirt, the one Alex said was vintage and kept threatening to sell on Ebay. She was being ridiculous about this whole thing. It was all in her head, nothing was going on. It was going to be fine.

She walked into the living room, Schneider already sprawled on the couch. His eyes flicked downward then back to eye level. Aside from that quick glance, he was impassive, giving nothing away. When had he ever had a poker face before?

She folded her arms across her chest, wishing for a shawl, a sweatshirt, even a puffy ski jacket. Anything to keep her more covered. _Make this look natural, stupid_. She settled onto the couch and reached for the miraculous cashmere afghan, trying to arrange it for maximum coverage.

The darkness in the room and the warm blanket made her a little braver. “I didn’t ask if you were okay with all this. The pretend boyfriend game. You were supposed to be getting the great love of your life and it turned out to be just me."

"Yeah. It's fine. No biggie."

"We have to do it at least until Elena's party. That's not too long for you?"

Schneider shrugged.  “My drumming circle disbanded because we got into a philosophical disagreement about maracas. I’ve got the time. It’s cool.”

She should be happy, she had her Schneider ( _her friend Schneider, that’s what she meant_ ) again, but something didn’t feel right. Like he had snapped back to his old carefree self too fast. Easy come, easy go.

“Really? You were about ready to rent a hall and a band for a minute there. You’re not secretly auditioning for “Married At First Sight,” are you?”

“Nah. I am not where I want to be, but I think I’m right where I need to be.” He had a soft little smile on his face.

Pen restrained herself from an eye roll, barely. “Catchy. You should cross stitch that on a pillow.”

Schneider chuckled. “Cross stitch is for losers.  I needlepoint. It’s harder and it takes longer.”

She was sure somewhere, maybe deep in Schneider’s ‘craft crate’, there was a customized needlepoint of the Alvarez family with him grinning in the center. Yeah, she was more charmed than creeped out, but better to move on from that image. Time to change the subject.

"So what's the game plan for tonight?" 

“‘Za is going to be here in ten minutes. Quick dinner, then ‘Bad Boys’ marathon?" He gestured to what he’d pulled up on the TV.

"Peak hotness Will Smith. Yes!" She did a fist pump of excitement.

After a slice or two of pizza  ( _truffle oil is disgusting and tastes like dirt, Schneider. I don't care what you say._ ) they stretched out, facing each other but tilted towards the screen. The couch wasn’t that big. Their legs brushed up against each other every moment. If they were dating this would be when she would start to play footsie with him until they were tangled together into a big sexy pretzel. She was good at flirting. Really good. She’d just never tried out her serious moves on Schneider before. 

She shouldn't feel this aware of him being near her. It had never been a problem before. Okay, in the Range Rover. On the roof. All right, maybe it was happening quite a lot lately, but still. Not here in his apartment with his bedroom a few easy steps away. 

"You take up too much room." She nudged him with her foot, trying to get him to sit up and give her some more space. She needed to feel like she could breathe around him again.

"I can't take up too much room. It's my couch. I own it. I should charge you rent."

"Excuse me, you already do charge me rent! Now I gotta pay to sit on your couch?"

He didn't move. He didn't push back. He didn't even say anything. Which was so not Schneider. It was like he was tuning her out completely. For a movie she knew he'd watched at least a dozen times. 

“Your legs are too long." Nudge, nudge.

"You're three apples high, you don't need any more space."

She sat up a bit. "I'm sorry, did you call me a munchkin?"

"No, a Smurf. Magical blue beings with little white hats?" He swirled his hand above his head to indicate some kind of lopsided beret without looking away from the screen.

_Oh, it's on now._

Some cautious part of her noted, "You're flirting, step back, girl," but a bigger reckless part of her didn't care. He still hadn't even glanced over from the movie. She'd never had a problem getting Schneider to notice her. It was getting him to leave her alone that was usually the problem. Now she wanted that intense focus on her.  She craved it.

So. . . if she stretched her leg out all the way and flexed her toe, she might be able to reach his stomach and goose him. A little tap to annoy the hell out of him. She wiggled to get her muscles ready, extended her leg like a ballerina and as she was about to make her attempt, Schneider grabbed her foot in one quick easy movement. Like he had been aware of what she was up to the whole time and was waiting for the right moment to react.

His hand easily spanned her ankle. He looked over finally, a slow grin spreading over his face now he had gotten the better of her (if only for the moment) and like that -

 _Thunderbolt_. Pulsing hard and hot, all over her body. It wasn't just a flicker, an ember, or a glow. It sizzled. No way of mistaking it.

She suddenly had no interest in kicking him in the stomach. She wanted to drape herself over him and make out till they forgot about anything else. She had been so caught up on getting Schneider's attention, she hadn't planned on what happened afterwards. All of a sudden it felt like there was a neon sign over her head, flashing, "I Want You. I Want You. I Want You.”

Martin Lawrence was making some kind of smart ass comment but he sounded tinny and far away. She and Schneider should be mouthing the words along with him, but instead they both sat there, quiet in the moment. Was she breathing hard? Was he? Her knees were wobbling and she wasn’t even standing up. Nothing was under her control any more. Her whole world had taken a quick 180 degree spin and she had no idea how she was going to get it right again.

"I'm trying to watch a movie.”  Schneider said carefully, his voice deep and honey slow in way he had used only once before, last night in the hallway where they had almost kissed, really kissed.

She scurried away from him and sat bolt upright, trying to get her face and body under control. "Yeah, good idea. Let's just watch the movie already."

 


	8. What are We Going to Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a lull before the next storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another shorter, quieter chapter. I apologize, but I felt like a little introspection was needed. My next chapter is half done, but August is kind of a crazy month for me. No one give up hope! I shall return. Also, Dr. B. makes a short cameo here because he's adorable.

They made it through the rest of the movie marathon without any further incidents. Schneider even grabbed some Junior Mints from the pantry. She hoped he didn’t notice how carefully she took the box each time, making sure their fingers didn’t brush. It wasn’t until the last strains of hip hop and best buddy bickering faded that the uneasiness seemed to settle over them again.

This was crazy. It shouldn’t be like this. She wasn’t dressed up at all. Neither was he. Now he was in worn out shorts and his “that’s my jam!” T-shirt with smirking raspberries. The coach was a pumpkin again. The mice had run home. But the thunderbolt was still there, every time she glanced at him for more than a second or two.

Schneider checked his fancy wristwatch. She was momentarily caught up in the strength of his wrists. His freakin’ wrists. She had it so bad.

“It’s late. Your mom has to be asleep. I think it’s safe to sneak you home.” He yawned to punctuate his statement.

She bit her lip. “Actually, I was wondering if I could stay. I think she’s camped out on the couch waiting up for me and for the first time in my life, it’s not to yell at me for breaking curfew. I’m worried she might push me out the door again.” 

“Pen, this is getting complicated. Don’t you ever think about not pretending?” There was a question in his eyes. 

_ He knows. He can totally read my mind. _

“What? You mean admit to my mother we’ve been lying to her and this is all fake?” She shot out the words before he could say more. She wasn’t ready for whatever “more” might mean. “It’s going to be so much better to crush all her elaborate puppetmaster dreams right before a big party. We’ll tell her this was all a prank, we’re friends, and she needs to butt out of our love lives. She might throw a punch bowl. It’s going to be awesome.”

“I’m not sure I like dark side Penelope. Plus, won’t we ruin Elena’s party?” 

Penelope paused. She thought about Victor and the quinces. She winced then shrugged. “It’s not a Cuban party until there’s drama. Maybe this will keep Tia Isidra from flashing the waiters again.”

“Tia Isidra with the cane and the scowl?” Schneider tilted his head.

“Get enough rum in her and you’d be amazed what happens. Please, please. If we can keep this going for a little while, it will be awesome. Just let me spend the night.” She slammed her mouth shut, realizing what she said after the fact. 

Maybe she had gone too far. Now he would say something suggestive and weird. Then she would remember why she absolutely positively was not attracted to him. Honestly, it would be a good thing. She needed a dose of Schneider 1.0  for her own personal sanity. Or worse, he would say something more serious in that deeper, velvety tone. If he managed to say something uncheesy in that voice, things could definitely get dangerous.

Schneider was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll crash on the oversized futon in the yoga studio. There’s a basket with two extra sets of travel size toiletries in the master bath. One is jasmine. The other is lemon verbena. No, I don’t mind if you steal the other set and take it home.” He gave her a significant look. “You better not steal my bathrobe though. I’m very attached to it.”

He put his hands on his knees and stood up with a groan, tossing a quiet “night,” behind him, leaving her to stare dumbfounded at his back.

Something between them had shifted tonight. She rubbed her forehead, wishing she had simple, doofy Schneider back. If he wasn’t going to bring it up, she sure as hell wasn’t. He wanted to pretend nothing was going on? Fine. 

She shook herself all over as if she could shake the glowy tingle right out of her skin and got up to get ready for bed. _ She would not feel weird sleeping in Schneider’s bed. She would not feel weird sleeping in Schneider’s bed. _ If she kept on saying that, it would be true.

The yoga pants and T-shirt were fine for sleeping in, but she made her way to the master bathroom for a quick shower and yeah, because she was a little nosey. The bath was all dark gray marble, like HGTV come to life. There was the infamous Jacuzzi and a shower big enough for a baseball team.

She ran her hand over the counter till she reached the baskets filled with bath goodies. The containers were wicker and more free form and casual than everything else in the bathroom. Had Schneider gone through a basket weaving phase? There had been so many different hobbies, she couldn’t remember anymore. Hand-milled soap, shampoo, conditioner, lotion. She picked up the soaps and sniffed them curiously.  Mmm the lemon verbena wafted a delicious hint of scent. It smelled . . . like him. Like Schneider. She put it down again as if it was on fire. Jasmine it was. 

She needed to brush her teeth too. He had some ritzy organic toothpaste with “hints of orange blossom and rose.” She rummaged in the cabinet, sighing with relief when she found some individually wrapped travel toothbrushes and mini tubes of good old peppermint Crest. She wasn’t ready for her mouth to taste a flower shop. 

What did Schneider’s mouth taste like? When they had kissed things hadn’t quite progressed far. She closed her eyes, trying to bring back the memory, but then slammed her hands down. _ You’re not helping yourself, Pen. You’re really not. _

She scrubbed hard at her teeth and gums (probably a lot harder than Faye, her dental hygienist would like) and decided a shower was just not a good idea at the moment. She was better off going straight to bed.

She thought she was going to be wide awake with lots of alarming thoughts running through her head, but the magical combination of Egyptian cotton sheets and goose down pillows had her out before Schneider’s white noise machine (already set to ‘Amazon rainforest’) had even finished powering up. She slept deeply without nightmares or any sex dreams (thank god).

She woke up early. The double combination of the army and kids had beaten the ability to sleep in out of her years ago. She sat bolt upright and fumbled for someone to hold onto and then remembered she was alone. Why would she even think someone was there? She was used to sleeping alone now. She was even getting to like it, some of the time.

But this was the first time she’d slept in Schneider’s bed. To wake up and reach out for someone? Not good. She took a quick shower and scooped up her stuff, leaving Schneider a quick note thanking him for letting her stay. She sketched a smiley face on it, hoping his feelings wouldn’t be hurt by her departure. He could be super sensitive, but this wasn’t a one night stand. He knew where she lived. He had her number.

And besides, there hadn’t been any sex. As a matter of fact, this was the literal exact opposite of a one night stand. Good friends who knew each other well not having sex with each other. Which is how they had always wanted it, right? Right.

She managed to sneak downstairs without running into him or anyone else, but she should have known her luck wouldn’t last. When she opened the door, there was Mami, painting her nails at the dining room table, freshly pressed and not looking like she had slept on the couch. It was so annoying, but it didn’t fool Pen one bit.

Her mother didn’t waiver from working on her manicure. “Where is the love of your life? I expected him with you.”

Penelope did her best fake gasp. “Freddie Prinze Junior is coming here?!”

Lydia pursed her lips.  _ "Que  _ funny. Where is Schneider?”

“Um, he didn’t feel like coffee.”

Her mother gave another delicate stroke with her brush, still focused. “He didn’t feel like his cafecito? The one he has every morning with me? That is the highlight of his day.” She paused in her artwork and wrinkled her nose, gracefully, of course. “Used to be the highlight of his day.”

Penelope faked a grin. “Yeah, must be some kind of juice cleanse. You know him, what a character. Okay, just came to grab a change of clothes. Have a great day, Mami, gotta go.” She pressed a kiss on the top of her mother’s head as she flew off to start her day.

She was jittery the whole way into work and not from the traffic and caffeine. All she could think about how every aspect of her home life was careening out of control. Work, work would distract her. 

But when she opened the office door Dr. Berkowitz was waiting for her. He was draped over the front desk, trying to appear casual, but looking more like a very relaxed sloth with male pattern baldness.

“Heeeeyyyy.” He drawled out in his best Valley Girl imitation.  “We never talk about anything around here except gallstones and ear infections. What’s going on with you, girlfriend? Spill.”

She rolled her eyes. “Doc, all I have to give you is my name, rank, and serial number. Also I’m disappointed she’s enrolled you in her little campaign. Disappointed but not surprised.”

Dr. B’s face wrinkled in dismay. “Please, Penelope. I know I’m overstepping all of California’s sexual harassment laws for the sake of my love for your mother, but can I ask you one thing?”

She jingled her keys in her hand. “I’m regretting this already, but sure. One question. Shoot.”

“Does he make you happy?” He asked with an utter sincerity that stopped her short.

She thought for a moment about Schneider, how he could make her laugh (sometimes even on purpose) how he was kinder to everyone than he was to himself, and how he had this ability to love and be open to the whole world, even if it ended up hurting him sometimes. 

“I don’t think making me happy is ever going to be a problem.” She said slowly, admitting the words to herself as she said them out loud. Schneider could make her happy in a lot of ways. That wouldn’t change if (and she couldn’t believe she was saying this) they became a couple. It’s just their lives were so damn messy. And the two of them together? They had waaay more baggage than two regulation carry ons. Delta would have to come up with a new weight limit for them.

But Dr. B was smiling and at least he looked like a happy sloth. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m so glad.” His voice held that note of trembling warmth to it, a little bit like if Mr. Rogers was crossed with Kermit the Frog.

Penelope blew out a puff of air. “Enough feelings. Let’s focus on work, okay? I heard there’s a stomach bug going around. Also, my horoscope said Mercury is in retrograde. I’m not sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good.”

They were definitely busy. Penelope was grateful she still had enough of her old army reflexes to duck out of the way of projectile vomit. Thank god she was going home early.  She had worked out a deal where Doctor Berkowitz took occasional afternoons in exchange for her covering every other Saturday morning on her own. A quiet afternoon. Kids at school, Mami glued to her telenovelas. Ah, beautiful peace and quiet.

But when she got home Schneider was waiting for in front of her door, a grimace etched across his face. Her gut twisted with guilt. She had hurt him after all when she ducked out early.

“Hey, I’m sorry about -”

"Your mother thinks I'm bad in bed, so I hope you're happy now." Schneider’s voice held a definite sharpness to it, but it wasn’t hurt, it was frustration.

Penelope shook her head. She had to be hearing things. "Wait, what?"

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: If you read this when it was first posted "the love of Penelope's life" was Mario Lopez and not Freddie Prinze Junior. I changed it, partially b/c Mario Lopez said something insensitive (which he did apologize for after the fact) but also b/c I think Freddie Prinze Junior just makes it funnier punchline. 
> 
> Yeah, I could have written "and they had to sleep in the same bed!" (which I love, love, love), but I thought this was a better way to leave Penelope confused and frustrated. 
> 
> Fair warning the next chapter is going to get more explicit, although maybe not quite in the way people expect? For now the rating will remain the same, but if you don't enjoy frank talk about sex, you may want to skip the next chapter. (whenever I finally get around to posting it). I will also post something in the author's notes so people know ahead of time.


	9. I Just Want To Touch You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider needs his male pride assuaged. Penelope gets carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in an abundance of caution I have changed this fic's rating from Teen to Mature. I consider this chapter more vaguely suggestive than explicit. No one has sex, but if frank talk about sex and/or sexual fantasies makes you uncomfortable, you should probably skip this chapter. 
> 
> And if you're on the other side of that comfort level and hoping for more than just talk. . . I'm sorry? It's coming, I think. Not in this chapter. Next chapter is not looking good either. I meant it when I said slow burn. But we'll get there!

“Say that again,” Penelope said, sure she had not heard Schneider’s words correctly.

He flung up his arms, portraying anger and despair in one single gesture. “She strongly implied I am lacking in the bedroom and that's why you weren't screaming from rooftops last night."

“We weren’t rowdy. That’s all?” Pen clucked her tongue. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but she expected worse. “Even my imaginary sex life isn't good enough for her. Why would she say that?”

"Because plaster didn't rain down from the ceiling, because no one called the cops. Hell if I know." He was genuinely upset about this.

“Maybe we have great soundproofing?” She suggested, smirking. They’d never heard Schneider’s overnight guests before. Not that she was about to point that out.

“You don’t have great soundproofing. You have amazing soundproofing! I paid extra for the ultra premium stuff, but nothing will convince her now.” Schneider rubbed his hands through his hair, sending it up into spikes. She resisted the urge to smooth it down.

Penelope shrugged. “What do you care? Didn't you spend hours on the phone listening to all your exes detail your inadequacies?"

"I also don't share a cafecito with them every morning. I can't take Lydia pitying me forever.” He was still frowning. Lord save her from male pride.

"My mom means more to you than all of your previous sexual partners?” She took a moment to consider it. “That's messed up, but I respect it."

“Women come and go, but your mom and I are ride or die.”

Penelope had to laugh. “This whole thing is funny, right? I'm amazed she didn't say it was my fault."

"Weeeell. She might have implied . . .” His voice squeaked at the end of the sentence.

“She blamed me? It’s somehow my fault you’re a lousy lay!?”. Her blood began to simmer. Anything wrong with a man was her fault. It never changed.

“I’m not that terrible,” Schneider muttered.

“Come here." She grabbed him by the hand while marching back into the apartment. Her mother was riveted by the TV, someone loudly proclaiming in Spanish that she was the good twin. The other woman was an imposter trying to steal her man. Man, throw in some amnesia and face slaps and you’d have telenovela bingo.

"Mami, Schneider and I are going to make wild, passionate love upstairs while the kids are at school!"

"¡ _Dale_!" Lydia responded, not even looking away from the crying and shouting and overdone emotions.

Somehow, they made it back to Schneider’s bedroom, Penelope leading, Schneider trailing along in her wake. She stopped short at the entrance, taking in her surroundings in daylight. It had that boring but expensive look. Instead of being done up dark gray, everything was decorated in beige with tiny white splashes as an accent. Schneider’s various trinkets and half finished art projects scattered around the room provided the only relief from the monotone shades.

She shook her head. “Are rich people not allowed to use colors?”

“Huh?” Schneider said, thrown by the change of topic.

“Never mind. Sit on the bed already.”

He did it without questioning or teasing for once. He folded his hands in his lap and stared at her, waiting for the next move. The bed was a definite focal point of the rom. It was a ridiculous size for one person and maybe only slightly less ridiculous for two people. It floated on an elevated platform made out of blond wood, a tasteful Scandinavian altar to sex. And even if the sheets and blankets were drab, she knew from experience how soft and comfortable they were.

 _Don’t overthink this_. This was cool. She was cool. It would be fine.

She sat next to him, not too close. He kicked off his shoes and folded his legs criss cross applesauce. She copied his movements. They were ready for a campfire sing along or maybe kindergarten story time. That didn’t seem to affect her libido though. Her heart thrummed being near him. Her skin almost ached to be touched. _Breathe, breathe._

Schneider stroked his chin. “And now what?”

“We’re not having sex.” She said the words with more force than was absolutely necessary.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. This is a fake out situation. How will she even hear us?”

“I am sure we both can get pretty loud. I’m Cuban and you’re well, you. Didn’t those improv classes teach you how to project your voice? Besides,” she rubbed her fingertips to her forehead, “I have this terrible suspicion she is standing on the dining room table with a glass pressed to the ceiling as we speak.”

“Ew.” Schneider said under his breath.

“I know. That’s why it’s a good thing this isn’t legit. Enough stalling.” She slapped his arm. “Make sex noises."

He shook his head. "No way. You started this. I’ve got an unwarranted rep for being selfish." Schneider made a flourishing hand gesture, almost as if he was helping her into an old-fashioned carriage. "Ladies come first."

It was hard to argue with his logic. She opened her mouth. Closed it. "Wait, how long do I have to keep this up?"

"Hours." He said promptly. “Hours and hours. I am a god among men.”

"No, come on.” She raised her eyebrows. “Realistic time frame only, please."

He sighed. "Fine. Half an hour.”

“Twenty minutes, tops.”

“Twenty five minutes. That’s my final offer and you better end with a big finale. I’m talking award winning material.”

She chewed on her lip. She couldn’t believe they were negotiating this. "Set a timer on your phone. You're joining in at the end and you better not shout out anything too kinky.”

"Deal." They shook on it and then dropped hands. _Awkward. Now what?_

“Maybe we should lie down?” She suggested.

They settled in, side by side. Close, but not too close. The mattress was as downy soft as she remembered. Zingy, electric thunderbolt feelings roared back to life. This was so stupid. Schneider was not hot. At all. He was just a friend. He acted like a complete _bobo_ most of the time.

Schneider gave her a playful hip check to scoot her closer to the middle of the bed. Something warm and silvery shot through her. _Oh, yeah, nice try, brain_ , her body said. Her reasonable, mature side might try to tell her one thing, but her insides were so damn sure he was hot, she might as well be singing ‘Whatta Man.’ And they were in a bed alone together.

Welp, there was nothing left to do except. . . moan very loudly? God, she couldn't do this in front of him. Never ever. Not in a million years. But her family hadn’t called her _cabeza de hierro_ her whole life for nothing. She was not a quitter. She closed her eyes. Tight. Okay, slightly better.

"Mmm." She hummed, the slight vibration leaving a tingle on her lips.

"That's it? That's all you got?" The mattress shifted as he turned closer to her. 

Her eyes shot open. He was so close, but she fought off the urge to move away. "I'm not a porn star, okay?"

"Pen, I've heard you make more excited noises after finishing a Slickers bar." Schneider’s face held a look that was a combination of laughter with something deeper, maybe tenderness? Why did he have to be so complicated and mysterious all of the sudden?

Penelope stuck out her lower lip. "Fine. But you close your eyes too."

Schneider held up a hand. " I'll humor you because my manly honor is at stake."

They both closed their eyes. She sat there for a minute. It was so quiet she could hear his breath. Part of her wanted to run away from all these big feelings. Steamy, glittery, not-just-a-friend feelings.

“Did you fall asleep? The clock is ticking.” Jeez, why did he have to be so. . . him? And why wasn’t it a turn off anymore?

“Hold on a minute. I'm not used to doing this on command," she snapped.

She could do this. It was meditation. Really, really sexy meditation.

"Just fantasize about whatever you usually fantasize about." He sounded almost irritated and weirdly that helped her relax.

"You mean lounging in a sarong on a tropical beach with Bradley Cooper and a tub of cocoa butter?" She meant it to come out sarcastically, but that was her actual go to situation when she had more than fifteen minutes in the shower.

“I usually go with Tessa Thompson spotting me on the weights, but I can work with Bradley Cooper."

She found him with her eyes still shut and elbowed him. Hard. “Shut up and stay in your lane."

She took another deep breath. She could do this. _Okay, showtime_.

She was sitting on a beach chair under a shady umbrella. The ultra blue waves rolled onto the shore, gentle enough to be a murmur. A salty breeze blew through palm trees. There were no children. No mothers. No one with appendicitis or an embarrassing rash in an awkward location.

And there was Bradley Cooper, strolling towards her, on time, tanned and gorgeous as always. He may not have won an Oscar, but he deserved all the awards as far as she was concerned. He was barefoot and wearing blue jeans faded in all the best places. His cuffs were wet from walking in the surf. He had on a rumpled white button down, buttoned down the exact right amount. It all went nicely with the deep tan and the wolfish grin. Sometimes she fantasized about him endlessly walking towards her with a smile on his face. A sliver of fantasy to brighten a bad day. But today he was going to reach her, allllll the way. For sure.

She let out a breathy sigh.

"Yeah, like that." Schneider’s voice held a note of muffled amusement. There was something about sitting next to him, heat radiating off his body. His voice was sweet and soft in her ear and. . . she was fantasizing about Schneider. Patrick Dwayne Schneider, her goofball best friend. Bradley was nowhere to be seen. Nope, now Schneider was standing in front of her on some perfect deserted island. He was the one wearing the white button down and worn out jeans. _Great. Perfect. Just what she needed_.

She was annoyed, but there was no denying her body was still responding. In her imagination he was smiling at her, bright blue eyes gleaming, and it was so much easier when he wasn't talking. Fantasy Schneider put down the cocoa butter on a very convenient table. He took off his glasses, then he leaned over her. Not touching her anywhere, just hovering in her space like just their molecules were touching. It shouldn't be working, but it definitely was.

He tugged at her sarong so it rested loose across her chest. Oh god, this should be off the charts embarrassing, horror movie level cringe, but it wasn’t. _It wasn’t_. Somewhere in her conscious mind, she registered Schneider had edged closer. He was stroking her palms with his fingertips. It was the lightest, sweetest touch but it felt amazing.

“Uhhhhhhhh," she said in real pleasure this time.

"Okay, good, but louder. Your mom’s hearing is not that great. I think I have a megaphone somewhere.” It sounded like he was getting distracted by a new thought.

“Grrrr,” She groaned, frustrated. “Shut up. You’re ruining it.” He was, but only because real Schneider’s words were coming out of fantasy Schneider’s mouth and it was causing a real mind screw.

“Shutting up now.” But he didn’t let go of her hands.

Fantasy Schneider was also letting his fingers do the talking. He worked the cocoa butter into her shoulders and her arms and then lower, lower, lower. The sarong fluttered onto the sand.

She let out something close to a soft groan. Then another. And another. She lost track of all time and space. She wasn’t holding anything back anymore. There was just the heat of his hands and his mouth and her skin. Then her mouth and her hands and his skin. Clothes vanished. Fantasies were awesome. Fantasies were fun. Safe, no calories, and free. And you didn’t have to think about sand or bugs or sunburns or any other pesky real life details that made sex on the beach disappointing. Why had she had been worried about this again?

The soles of her feet started to tingle, which was a surefire sign she was actually and truly close to coming. _Carajo._

She couldn't ignore this. It was her own quirky personal early alert system. The pangs would creep up to her legs. Then higher. In minutes, the thin layer of “pretend” was going to get ripped away because she was about to experience what was shaping up to be a super amazing orgasm. In Schneider’s bed. Next to him.

There was a faint ding ding ding of Schneider’s phone, but she was so deep in a wave of sensation the outside world barely registered.

"Okay ready?" He whispered. It still wasn’t enough to break her out of the fantasy. Instead it was more like he was telling her how close he was before he - That he - That they were - Her brain stuttered, refusing to linger on the thought. _This wasn’t real_. She was fully clothed, not on a beach, with someone who until a few weeks ago she had considered just a friend.

She teetered on the edge. She had to pull herself back. She wiggled her body, shutting down the ache as best she could. Then she bit her lip and nodded, still keeping her eyes tightly shut. He started moaning. It should be ridiculous, like a stupid late night 80s teen comedy, but it absolutely didn’t feel silly. They both worked up to full volume. It might have even got a bit competitive with some growling thrown in for good measure. _Don’t open your eyes, don’t look, don’t look_. They managed to reach some kind of mutual crescendo. Then something crashed. Something big and expensive. Had Schneider knocked over a lamp for some extra drama?

Silence floated down over them. Deathly, horrible silence. She kept her arm draped over her face, not sure if she could look Schneider in the eye, well, ever again. She could walk out of this room by feeling her way along the walls. When she got to the elevator, she’d be safe. Somehow she’d convince her family to move. Boise, Idaho would be far enough. Maybe.

“Um, hi.” Schneider said in a soft voice. She could have sworn he kissed her forehead. _Nope, not looking at him. again. Not ever._

“I never thought I’d say it in this particular situation, but I hope my mom’s proud of me now.” She said, her voice sounding raspy even to her own ears.

"Not much for pillow talk. Duly noted.”

Somehow Schneider being so **him** gave her the courage to open her eyes. His glasses were pushed up on his forehead, askew. His eyes shone with warmth and trust. Everything should be different, but looking in his eyes it didn't feel different. It only felt. . . more.

She reached for his glasses. At first, she was going to slide them back down his face, but she liked looking at him in a new way, a way most people didn’t see. She didn’t let herself think about it too much, just pushed them farther back and then cupped her hand to his cheek.

He grinned. “That was awesome. Bradley Cooper was an excellent choice."

Then she couldn't help it. she laughed. At first a nervous giggle and then a full belly laugh. She lowered her arm and rested her fingers on Schneider's waist. They were hopelessly roaring, clinging onto each other for dear life. His eye crinkles, the feel of his hipbone under her palm. It was amazing and so, so right.

The laughter faded. They were left with their arms around each other, faces calm and waiting. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead something was settling over them. Acceptance? Maybe even anticipation?

"Pen? What are we doing here?” Schneider brushed back her curls from her face. She shivered. _Shivered_.

“Umm -” She licked her lips, trying to think fast.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Heavy dull thuds echoed from the front room. Silence. Then faster, angrier pounding. Definitely not the UPS man.

_You have got to be freaking kidding me._

“There’s someone at the door,” Penelope said in a stunned whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real summary should read - the author got carried away and Penelope and Schneider got to go along for the ride. I definitely head cannon Schneider as bi or pan, but you may feel free to interpret Schneider's quips about Bradley Cooper however you want.
> 
> I'll have a patchy internet connection for about a week and then August is kind of a crazy month. Look for more updates in the fall, fingers crossed.


	10. And Nothing Will Stand in My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflections and an overdue discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to say upfront, I end this on a really mean cliffhanger again. Sorry! It was getting so long, I felt it had to end at some point. But the air does get cleared, a bit.
> 
> Ramona and Jill also make a short appearance, yay!

Schneider groaned into her neck, his lips and breath tingling on her skin.

 _Yeah, like that,  but maybe just a little lower_ -

Bang! Bang! Bang! Mystery visitor was not going to give up.

“I’ve got to get that,” He whispered. “Stay here, okay? Just stay.” He pressed his hand against her hip and she held back a groan. 

She nodded, afraid to speak and break the fragile moment between them. Schneider eased off the bed, not letting her go until the last possible second. The minute the bedroom door closed with a delicate click, reality smacked her hard and she sat up.

 _What the hell were they doing? No, what the hell was_ **_she_ ** _doing?_ She smoothed her fingers through her hair and scrubbed her face. Think, think, think. She couldn’t sneak out the front door. But what scared her the most was that she didn’t want to leave.

A giant creamy brown vase lay shattered in pieces by the side of the bed. She winced. That had been the noise. It was super ugly, which meant it had to also be super expensive. Guess when Schneider did improv, he really committed. 

Muffled voices rose and fell from the front door. She got up and tiptoed closer, hovering almost in the hallway until she could make out individual words.

 "Yes, I'm sorry, Mr. Roth.  I'm sorry about Tinkerbell. It won't happen again. Absolutely not. No, sir."

She leaned in and heard Mr. Roth’s response. Her eyes widened. Wow, who knew such a sweet old man had such a salty vocabulary. And he always acted so nice when she ran into him by the mailboxes.

There were more muttered apologies. Finally the front door closed.

Schneider walked back into the other end of the hall, guilt written all over his face.

"Sorry I got up. Is everything okay?"  _Are you okay? Are we okay?_

"We gave Mr. Roth's dog a seizure. Apparently chihuahuas have very keen ears."

“Oops.” Her face flushed, but she couldn't bring herself to feel too guilty. Yes, she was still freaking out, but her body was humming to life again at the sight of him. “Guess that’ll make the next block party a little awkward.”

“Yeaaah. I promised him I’d drive them both to the vet. When I get home we’re talking about,” he made a swooping move with his hands. “All of this.” He had this determined look on his face. She swallowed hard. What did he mean? Schneider didn’t do serious talks.

She rubbed her hands together, feeling suddenly cold. “Okay. When?” 

“Nine or maybe ten?” He raised his eyebrows, nervous. “Is that okay?”

 _Ten_? Not everyone had Schneider’s playboy schedule with unlimited nap potential. The annoyance must have shown on her face.

Schneider shuffled his feet. “The animal ER is always packed. We’ll wait forever. Then Mr. Roth is going to make me double check every single one of his window locks and play a few rounds of chess. It’s our routine.”

“Ten’s fine.” Maybe she needed a chance to step back anyways. Think about what this all meant. She gave him a clumsy shoulder squeeze and passed by him, ignoring Mr. Roth’s death glare in the hallway.

Mami didn’t say anything when she strolled back into the apartment, just gave her a nod of begrudging respect. That felt kind of gross, but at least one problem was taken care of. 

While she was processing everything, the kids came home in a rush, talking over each other about their day. Situation normal. At least sort of normal. Mami was frying onions in the kitchen, the kids were squabbling. She could turn off her brain and just relax with some Candy Crush or juicy celebrity gossip. No one to take care of for the moment. Everything should be fine. A little breather before she met up with Schneider again. For a talk. A big, serious talk about them, because there was a “them” to talk about. Her doubts starting nibbling away at her.

The attraction was out in the open now. Any chance of plausible deniability was in the rear view mirror. For both of them. But knowing you were attracted to someone and acting on the attraction were two different things. 

Maybe Schneider was regretting. . . what would she call it? Not sex, not even kissing. One moment of super dramatic eye contact? She was the one who should worry, right? Schneider? Really? But she didn’t. She might be having a bizarre midlife crisis, but there were zero regrets. 

She started playing with her phone every minute, hoping for a text from Schneider, something like,  _I can’t stop thinking about you. All I want to do is kiss you._ Maybe he could throw in some Boyz II Men lyrics, no biggie.

Time passed. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Not even an Insta story about his favorite hair gel.

Honestly, she would even settle for one of his random annoying texts. How many reps he did at the gym that day, pictures of his home brewed kombucha ( _ew_ ) or questions about who was the star of the last Lifetime movie they watched? You know the one, Pen. She’s famous now, but back in the day she had a really bad hairstyle with those crispy bangs. . .  ( _I’m not Google, Schneider. Look it up_ )

Finally, she gave up and started scrolling through her dogs with wigs collection while doing her favorite breathing exercises.

“Mom, did you finally download Snapchat or are you just waiting for a text from Schneider?”

“Huh?” Her head whipped up, suddenly realizing Alex was sitting next to her on the couch.

Her son patted gently, as if he was giving her a terrible diagnosis. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need to put that thing down and join the real world. Go outside. The rumor is there’s fresh air and sunshine out there.”

“You’re absolutely right. Thank you.” She shut off her phone and gave him a cheek kiss.  Another thought occurred to her. “Does it bother you Schneider and I are together?” _Not that they actually were, but. . ._

Alex shook his head. “Nah, I mean, he’s here so much already, it’s hardly any different. Besides, it’s kind of cute old people can still fall in love.”

She frowned, “Excuse me?”

Alex cleared his throat. “I meant. . . mature people?” 

It was debatable if Schneider was mature, but she let it go.

 “You know, he’s got serious cash.” He waggled his eyebrows.“You need to grab on to him before someone snatches him up. Tell him to put a ring on it.”

Pen gave him a light smack on the head. “When I’m with someone, it’s for who they are, not because of how much money they have in the bank.”

Alex made a 'yuck' face. "That's super corny. You got to do something. I’m too young to catch a sugar mama.”

 “I hate to break it to you, but Schneider and I are hardly at the wedding stage.” She sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure where we are at the moment. Things are so confusing.”

He grimaced. “I think this conversation is about to get 100 percent more emotional than I can handle. Homework is sounding good.”  He got up, but turned around at the last minute. “Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“You and Schneider? It seems weird at first, but after you think about it, it makes sense. Everyone probably thought the dude who invented the peanut butter and jelly sandwich was crazy, right? Peanut butter? Jelly? No way. But now? He’s the unsung hero of lunchtime.” Alex placed both hands over his heart. 

Penelope laughed in spite of herself. “Thanks, Papito. You actually helped.”

Alex was right. Enough moping, she had to come up with a plan. This called for reinforcements. Mami gave a raised eyebrow when she grabbed a jacket and her car keys. So she came up the quickest lie she could. “Ramona has roller derby tonight. I promised I’d show up to support her.”

It turned out it actually was Ramona’s roller derby night and watching women trying to demolish each other was fun and empowering in a weird way. But it was also two scoops for one at the hipster ice cream place, the one she was usually too cheap to take the kids to. It’s like people thought if they put an & sign between two nouns and threw down some reclaimed wood benches, they could double the price for anything.

So with the promise of expensive sprinkles and real whipped cream, she managed to corral Ramona and Jill together for an emergency sit-rep. Venting at group therapy was great, but there were some things she could not say in front of a room full of people without her face bursting into flames of embarrassment. You could take the girl out of Catholic school, but you couldn’t take the Catholic school out of the girl. Sister Barbara was probably cackling with delight upside down in her bat cave right now. Pen just knew it.

Both women sat in slack jawed silence after she had blurted out the whole ridiculous situation.

Jill licked some sorbet off her spoon, mulling something over. “Let me get this straight. So you came -”

“Almost came -” Penelope reminded her.

“Almost came, from the power of your mind and his fingertips?” Jill looked impressed. “Handyman is even more handy than I thought.”

Ramona leaned forward in her chair. “That’s like some tantric level shit there.” She offered Pen a fist bump which she reluctantly reciprocated. It did feel kind of like she had a superpower.

“Anyways,” Penelope gestured with her cone, calmer now she had worked her way down past the first scoop. “Our relationship is fake. Kissing - Fake. Orgasms - fake. We’re friends. The whole thing is fake, fake, fake.”

Jill frowned. “But were you faking as in ‘Walking Dead’s going to be on in 15 minutes, let’s wrap this up’ or was it an ‘I’m scared to really let myself feel vulnerable with this person’ situation?”

Penelope chewed on her lip, not saying the answer out loud. She didn’t need to. Her friends’ expressions told her everything. She had never had a problem before being vulnerable with Schneider before. He really was her best friend. She had even said it to him, out loud, using her mouth and actual words. That wasn’t easy for her. But being intimate with him like *that* was a whole ‘nother level.

Ramona and Jill both stared her down, scarier than any drill sergeant.

“Why do you two have to be so good at this?” She took another lick. Honeycomb almond. Dang, this was good stuff.

Jill continued. “So you had an orgasm - she saw Penelope’s frown and corrected herself - “I’m sorry, you had an almost real orgasm with your fake boyfriend to prove your mother wrong.” Jill smiled and tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure this isn’t something you should talk about in therapy?”

Ramona waved her hand frantically, giddy with sugar and post game adrenaline. 

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Ramona? Either you have a question or you’re a kindergartener who needs a potty break.” 

Ramona smirked. “Why aren’t you boning this dude? I mean, he’s definitely not my type, but it sounds like it could be a-maze-ing.” She trilled the last sentence.  

Penelope turned over the idea in her head. She almost wished she and Schneider were having sex. She was good at sex. Sex would be normal compared to whatever was happening here.

“I -” She stopped herself. She didn’t even know anymore, honestly. She wanted him, as weird as it felt to admit that. Schneider was acting strange, well stranger than usual, but he definitely wanted her. Everyone already thought they were dating. Would it really hurt to get some nookie out of all this? 

 _She didn’t do sex without love_ , a little voice reminded her. But she **did** love Schneider. As a buddy, a pal, comrades in arms. They knew each other so well. What was some pants free time between friends? Just once. Then it would be out of their systems. Right? No harm, no foul. It was sure to work.

“You know what? Ramona, you’re a genius! That’s it. Sex with Schneider. That's the solution. Thank you!” It was all so obvious now. She threw down the money for her share and scrambled for her purse. This was going to be great.

**

It still sounded like a good idea when was knocking on Schneider’s door. It even sounded like a good idea when he opened it and he stood in front of her, tired and scruffier than the last time she had seen him.

“Hey.” He pulled her toward him with a light hug.  She closed her eyes and took it all in.They had barely touched yet and her insides were melting faster than cheap crayons on the dashboard of a hot car. This wasn’t a good idea, it was an amazing idea.

She stepped back so they were face to face. _Spit it out, girlfriend. "_ Enough. Let’s do it.”

Schneider frowned. “Do what?”

“You. Me. Bedroom. Sex. Now.” Why was this so hard for him to understand?

“Ohhhh, that.” Schneider rubbed at  his beard. "No.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?” Were they speaking two different languages all the sudden?

He raised his eyebrows in confusion. “No. . .  thank you?”

“What?” Her ears could hear the words, but her brain could not process what he was saying. Schneider was saying no to casual sex? What was the world coming to?

 “You know I’m not asking for a promise ring, right? This could be a one time just-for-fun thing between the two of us.” She ran one finger lightly down his chest, finding lean muscle under soft well worn flannel. She stopped at his belt. They both paused for a moment. Their eyes locked. Definitely out of the friend zone. She gulped. Why was she suddenly feeling low on air? Did she run here?

Schneider nodded, slightly dazed. “Yeah, I know.” He cleared his throat.  “When I said I wanted to talk that wasn’t code for something else. We really do need to talk. Do you want to maybe take this discussion inside?”

“I don’t understand why we can’t have this conversation in the bedroom.” She grumbled. Now that her mind was made up, she wanted to get this started already, but she followed him and settled into the couch.

He sat next to her, then leaned in close _(yes, okay, this part was good_ ) and sniffed. Mmm Mmmm.  
  
“Do I smell waffle cone? Did you go to Cream & Sugar without me?” He gasped. “But you always tell me it’s ridiculous and overpriced.”

“Oh.” She held up a hand, trying to smell her own breath. “God, Schneider, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about it. I was on edge and -

“It’s okay. I’m nervous too.” Schneider patted her knee in a way that seemed irritatingly friendly and very nonsexual. _Damn it. Here it goes._ _Already know what he’s going to say_ - 

She sighed. “I get it. This is where you tell me you I’m your best friend, but you don’t think of me that way because I’m not some teeny tiny _flaquita_ with no booty. Even though that was not a screwdriver in your jeans this afternoon and yes, I did notice.”

“Are we talking Phillips head or -” He held up his hand. “You know what. We’re getting off track. Being attracted to you is not the problem. I think you know that already.” He scratched his neck. "Pen, you are an attractive woman -"

" I am not just attractive, I'm frickin' gorgeous." Penelope said automatically.

"Absolutely gorgeous." Schneider plowed on. "But when I said I wanted a real relationship with someone, I meant it. I’m ready for it and it's what I want. That hasn't changed because Lydia was trying to con us.”

“So now you’re hoping for some perfect woman who doesn’t even exist?”

“No, I didn’t say that.” His voice was quiet. “All I’m saying is if we do this, then we do this for real, no-hold-barred, all in.”

 _Dating? Dating Schneider?_ Her stomach twitched a little and it wasn't from too much sugar. “So you’re saying you're the one who wants a promise ring?”

“I mean, I think I would rock one,” he held up his hands, “but no, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you can’t get to sample my deliciousness, then cut and run.”

She laughed. “Where would I run? I live downstairs.”

“You know what I mean. You got to be in it to win it, committed. There will be regular conversations about feelings and expectations. I will have to deal with your snoring and don't give me that look, I know you snore. You will let me keep extra beard oil in your medicine cabinet. And that's not a weird euphemism, I need my beard oil to keep looking this good. We might even draw up a chore wheel. Got it?" He folded his arms and stared her down.

Pen sat in stunned silence. This had to be a weird gotcha moment. Any minute now, some YouTube celebrity with more followers than sense was about to pop and admit to recording it all on his phone. She glanced around. Still just them. “You realize that’s a lot to ask right off the bat? What happened to dipping our toes in?"

“You mean why risk it with my track record?” There was a trace of self-pity now in his words now.

“With your track record? Hello? What about my track record?” She ticked them off on her hand. “Messy divorce, one serious boyfriend who I broke my own heart for, and two dates with some guy from Bumble who taught me how to make balloon animals then never called again.”

Schneider had his sad puppy face on. “That guy sounded kind of cool, honestly.”

Pen rolled her eyes. “You would think that.”

“I’m not going anywhere either. You know that.” He sighed. “Okay, story time. The first time I had sex and I wasn't high, drunk or stoned off my ass on something, I was thirty-two." 

"Oh, we're at that part of the evening, huh?" 

Schneider shrugged, mock casual. "I mean, unless you can't deal with it. Because you're jealous or something."

"It's amazing those glasses fit with that swelled head of yours. Just tell me what happened already." She leaned back into the cushions, getting comfortable and feeling a little smug. She did enjoy a good ridiculous Schneider story.

"I'd gotten out a rehab and I told myself I was 'trying' sobriety." He put quotes around sobriety.  "Like it was a cleanse or something. I usually picked up girls, women," he corrected, bouncing off Penelope's glare, "at bars, but there was this woman, a dog walker, who I used to see when I went to the gym. We made flirty eyes at each other.  Eventually we exchanged numbers, we went out for coffee, then straight back to her place."

"Fast work."  Penelope said, not sure if she was annoyed or impressed. 

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

She thought for a moment and wrinkled her nose. "I really do. I’m just praying there’s a point.”

"There is. I promise. So, one of the great things about drugs and sex is, there was never any self-consciousness. Without any of that, I was super nervous.  There might have been a pep talk in the bathroom beforehand. I managed to walk into that bedroom stone cold sober.”

“And?” She hated herself a little, but she had to know how it ended now.

Schneider shook his head. “I always thought the booze and drugs helped me feel the ‘right way’ around women, but without them it was too much.  Every scent and smell and taste and sound was turned up all the way. I thought I was going to explode. But not in like a sexy way. Like in an Alien chest bursting way."

Penelope bit her lip. "I’m afraid to ask, but what happened?"

"I cried, told her I loved her, ran out the door and bought a handle of Parrot Bay rum. Wound up in rehab again three months later.”

Penelope cringed. “Yikes.”  Turned out this was not one of the fun stories.

“Major yikes.” Schneider tapped his hands on his thighs. “So to stay sober, I only slept with women I couldn't care about. Then there was Avery and that well sucked by the end, but was great for a while. If we have sex, it doesn’t have to mean everything, but it’s going to mean something. We’re already friends. You’re not a fling person and I’m done with being flung. That was fine for a while, but I’m not there anymore. I don’t mind pausing things until you’re ready to date me or -”

“What if I don’t think the two of us dating is a good idea. What happens next?”

He grinned. “If you don’t want this awesomeness,” he made an expansive gesture over his body, “locked down, then we’re friends. Like we’ve always been.”

She felt herself wavering. “Just like that, friends? No hard feelings?”

“Of course not. Absolutely no hard feelings.” He didn't stammer or rub his hands together. Nothing to indicate he wasn't absolutely sincere.

She blinked. How could it be that easy? “What happened to Mister Hot and Heavy who was all up in my personal space the other night?”

Schneider leaned closer. She sucked in a breath.

“He’s waiting very, very patiently to see if you can make up your mind.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. His words were just as soft as his touch, delicate and feather light, but it almost burned her with intensity. Everything was jumbled up in her head and in her heart. Was it time to jump? Was it ever? He knew all her sore spots. She knew his. It meant they could trust each other. It also meant if they crashed, they could both hurt one another so badly. She wasn't sure she wanted that kind of power over someone. Or for someone to have that power over her again. Her chest felt tight with anxiety but at the same time her skin was restless with a need to get closer. 

"Pen?" His fingers trailed down to her collar bone and lingered there. Not demanding anything just resting.

Her whole body rocked towards him. She could turn to him and kiss him until they forget everything up to and including their own names.

“It’s hard to think when you’re touching me.” She could admit that much to him at least.

Schneider let out a soft chuckle. “Same. I want this, but not if you’re not sure.”

She leaned back to look him in the eye. He was absolutely serious. No grin, no wink. Not even a hint of a twinkle in his eye.

Before things went any further, she would have to decide and be honest. She owed him that. 

She licked her lips. “Uh, well. . . “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, stay tuned. . . (runs and ducks for cover).


	11. I Know Better Than to Play with Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are made. Gifts are given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again, kind readers, for every kudos and comment. They really do help!

She slid out of his arms slowly even while her body was saying, _yes, come on, let’s go_.

She pushed herself off the couch and started pacing. She had to put distance between them. Physical distance, emotional distance, everything. She started to twist her fingers together. She forced her hands apart again, but then started tapping at her thighs. _Walk, walk, turn. Breathe. Walk, walk, turn. Breathe._

 She pushed her curls from her face. “I want this. Oh my god. You have no idea how much I want this. But a relationship is a lot to take on right now.” She bit her lip.

Schneider shrugged. It was an attempt to be casual, but it was obvious he was collapsing into himself. “So you’re saying I’m a dead weight, dragging you down. I’ll need you too much.”

“What if I need you too much? My life is a high wire act. I’m just starting to feel like I can handle this all on my own. Work, Mami, kids, everything. You’ve already so woven into every bit of our lives. What if one day I lean too hard on you and you’re gone? Poof.” She exploded a puff of air through her mouth then stopped up short. 

 _Wow._ She had never admitted to Schneider she needed him. They all did. She hated even admitting it to herself. It felt like she was naked and not fun time naked. But she could still feel the floor underneath her feet. The cars honked outside. Music blared. She licked her lips and tasted coconut lip gloss. She was grounded to the earth. Not floating. She was okay. For the moment.

“I won’t be gone, Pen. That’s not going to happen. I’m scared too, okay? You guys mean a lot to me. But I’m not so scared I don’t want to try. Really try.”

  She folded her arms. “You’re asking for toothbrush space and my banking password and we haven’t been on an actual date.”

“Your banking password is Papito is Da Best. Underscore. One.” He made a slashing motion with his hand then held up one finger to indicate the numeral. “Also you have got to stop letting Alex set up your computer stuff. He does not come up with very secure combinations.”

She cocked her head to one side. “We’ll loop back around to that, but how can you be so confident about us being together?” Time to break it down for him. “We haven’t even really kissed yet.”

He snorted in disbelief. “Is that all? Lack of a hard core makeout session?  You’re not more worried I’m an alcoholic codependent man baby who has a large Madame Alexander doll collection?”

She frowned, thinking it over. “Now I’m also freaked out about the dolls, but yeah. We're both messed up. But what if we don’t have -” she wiggled her hands in the air vaguely- “chemistry?” She was pretty sure they had more chemistry than Dow, but still. . . 

His face brightened. “Well, shoot. Come and get it, girl.” He stood up and crooked his hand in a ridiculous Matrix ‘come and fight’ gesture. 

She rolled her eyes, but then took a step towards him anyways. Why fight it? She did want this. If they were standing up, there was a limit to the trouble they could get into. That’s what her libido was telling anyways.

“Just to be clear. We’re not going to second base unless you promise to make an honest man out of me.” Minutes ago he had been grimly dejected. Now he glowed with some kind of goofy smugness.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice had a skeptical edge. Although, let’s be real, it was all working on her. If the words ‘doll collection’ didn’t drive a stake into the heart of her sex drive, nothing would.

She shuffled towards him. He dropped his silly pose and let his arms dangle at his sides. The air felt hot with possibilities. Part of her wanted to hit pause and live here forever. To exist in a moment where everything was good and nothing was screwed up yet. Instead she nudged his glasses onto his forehead. His eyebrows went up in surprise but he didn’t move an inch. It was clear he wanted this to be 100 percent her decision. She dragged her fingers down his face until her hands were bracketing his mouth. His beard felt prickly, but not too rough. His skin held the clean soapy smell that she was starting to think of as him. She brushed her thumb across his lower lip. She paused, giving him a chance to do or say something stupid. Instead he blinked, once, twice and then grinned. 

Oh, she would wipe that smirk right off his face. That was for certain. Letting go of his face reluctantly, she slid her arms up and around his neck, pulling him down an inch or two. She was going to have to work for this. Taking a breath, she popped up on her toes, leaning into him and giving him her total body weight. He might not be a wall of muscle, but she thought he was strong enough to hold her and he was. He grabbed her by the fondillo ( _oh yeah, this was happening_ ), but waited till she brought her mouth all the way to his.

The kiss started out a bit tentative and awkward ( _what the hell are we doing?) (I don’t know either!),_ but then they got their heads and noses lined up and well, - He tasted hot, sweet and intense, like an afternoon cafecito. Maybe that was corny, but everything already felt right. Not weird or unexpected. Every line between them blurred until there was no more her or him,  renter and landlord. Now there was an **us**. A glowing hot spark that could burn forever.

 It went on and on, one person leading the kiss, then the other. Hands roamed, teasing at new boundaries. Fingers crept under shirttails, body parts pressed closer than they ever had before. There was still the annoying short person, tall person dilemma. Someone was bound to get a crick in their neck soon.

“Couch, couch,” she murmured, pushing him gently backward. She sprawled on top of him. This was more like it. So much for standing up and staying out of trouble. But a soft snap noise broke the spell and they both paused to come up for air.

 Schneider’s grasp on her hips loosened a bit. “What was that?” His breath was ragged, which made her almost purr in satisfaction.

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” She nibbled at his jawline. 

“No wait. Hang on.” He reached into the couch cushions, pulling out his hipster glasses, snapped in two neat pieces. They both stared blankly at each other. Responsible Adult Penelope lurched to life again.

“Maybe we need to stop this all together.” She admitted, hating herself for even saying it.

Schneider frowned. “The prom and Elena’s party are so close. We can’t stop just because you find me irresistible.”

“You know what? Fine. It’s still on. But nothing when we’re alone.” She played with his shirt. How had she managed to unbutton so many buttons already? When had that happened? 

“Ever?” He pouted, all the world like a damn puppy. He was so different without his glasses, younger, more vulnerable somehow. It didn’t hurt that his eyes were glowing with soft affection.

She eased off his lap with regret, letting go at the last possible minute. “I’m not saying ever. Let me live through this week. We’ll see what comes next.”

**

They did manage to get through the week. Everyone was busy getting ready for Elena’s big events, which meant they got away with a few cheek kisses and Schneider sitting next to her during family dinners. And if she dropped her fork when he brushed his hand on her thigh under the table, well, she could pass that off as a klutzy moment rather than her nerves reaching some weird sexual peak.

But at night when she laid in her bed she thought about it. What they had done, hell what they had come very close to doing.

Prom Night finally came. Pen felt so keyed up and exhausted she wasn’t sure she wasn’t the one heading out for 'the best night of your life.'

Elena, on the other hand, was annoyingly chill. “Mami, the best night of my life is when I get sworn into the Supreme Court by Roxane Gay while Brandi Carlile sings and we’re all standing inside a giant replica of the Tardis.” She paused to take a breath then smiled. “This is just some stupid kids’ party.”

Penelope squeezed her daughter’s hands. “Yeah, but most people on Supreme Court have dentures and hearing aids. Let’s pick a milestone that your abuelita and I have a reasonable chance of enjoying.”  She frowned, thinking of something. “Also, I’m not sure that’s how the Supreme Court works.” 

Of course, Schneider had to show up on prom night, snazzy new iPhone fully charged and with gifts to drop on everyone.

He presented an elaborate pink orchid bouquet to Lydia. “Flown in all the way from Brazil.” He bowed and kissed Mami’s hand. Penelope might have felt a shameful, fleeting moment of jealousy. _For her mom_. Life was too weird sometimes.

Elena and Syd both got gorgeous upcycled boutonnieres. “Sola wood. Totally sustainable. Some recycled metal thrown in there. Made them myself.” He beamed with pride and they both gave him a high five.

Lydia left for the kitchen proclaiming loudly it would be hard to find a vase big enough for all her _flores_ , but she was going to try. Clearly she didn't need to stick around now she wasn't the center of attention.

 Schneider glanced around and then stage whispered. “I also bought carbon offsets for shipping those orchids from South America. Just keep it on the down low from your abuelita.”

Now Elena squealed and gave him a hug. Without letting herself think too much about it, Pen caught the moment on her phone. They’d want it later. She wasn't sure what 'later" looked like, but Schneider would be part of it. She could picture Schneider wanting to frame it or make it into a paint by numbers, god forbid. Elena would make fun of him for it, but secretly love it.

She managed to wave the happy couple off without losing it, but her chin started to tremble the moment the door closed. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the waterworks. She would not cry, damn it.

Schneider cleared his throat. “I have a gift for you too but I was hoping I could give to you somewhere more private, maybe your bedroom?”

“Ew,” Alex muttered from the sofa. 

“Not like that.” Schneider absentmindedly played with the inside of her wrist in a way that made her hope, even think, it was 'something like that.' They had stuck the rules, but maybe they could bend them now. It would distract her from this crappy mood if nothing else.

When he closed the door, she smirked. “Okay what do you have for me? Is it a big package?”

Schneider wrinkled his forehead. “Not exactly?” 

He reached into his oversized gift bag, handing her a box wrapped in shiny swirly purple paper. Something about the weight and the size was familiar.  She rocked it back and forth in her palm.

She rattled it gently. No noise. "What is this?” 

"Well, open it and see."  His smile was weirdly shy, for him. He scratched at his neck as if something itched there.

She peeled back the paper, preparing herself for anything. She was half convinced it would be one of Schneider’s weird hobby presents. Now she was going to have to pretend to be excited about foraged microgreens or a lumpy piece of pottery.

But it wasn’t a homemade spoon rest or wild mustard. It was a music box, one for a little girl, white with tiny pink flowers. She eased the latch open. Swan Lake poured out of it, bright and sparkling. The ballerina complete with pink tutu popped up and started turning. Her hair was made of curly brown ringlets rather than the standard Barbie blonde.

“I had a jewelry box like this when I was a kid. That’s so sweet. . . “ Her voice trailed off. She flipped it over. _Property of Lupita Riera_ was scrawled in purple marker. She lifted it up to her nose to be sure. Yup. Fake grape scented marker. It wasn’t a jewelry box like the one she had as a kid, it was her exact jewelry box.

“Papi bought this as my first communion present.” She could still remember hugging him in his best suit, the scent of cheap aftershave and expensive cigars. "He had to search forever until he found one with my hair color. He said he would never find a ballerina as beautiful as a daughter, but he had to try to find something close. Where did you get this? How did you get this?”

“Your mom was cleaning out the garage again the other day and found it. It wasn’t in great shape. Red marker all over it, Pink satin ripped. It looked like it had survived a slasher movie.”

Penelope sat down on the bed. “You fixed it. How did you fix it?”

Schneider shrugged and settled next to her.  "I fix things. Watch a few YouTube videos, shop on Ebay _y ya esta_."

He brushed a fingertip gently against the lock. “It was in pretty bad shape. How did it happen?”

 She winced. Her turn for an embarrassing story. "It got wrecked years ago when the kids were little. Victor and I were both still in the Army. We lived on post, but it was far from home in the middle of nowhere. My neighbors thought “ _tostones_ ” was the name of a rapper. Mami had to send me care packages filled with real coffee every month or I’d go crazy drinking Folger’s.”

Schneider shook his head. “I can’t imagine it.” He wasn’t teasing her. His face was full of concern.

Penelope nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. Sooo, one day, I was home with the kids. Elena was six. Alex was about three. Victor was deployed. I was exhausted trying to keep it together. I put on _Fern Gully_ -

"Because it has an environmental message and no princesses."

She nodded. "Exactly. Elena was Elena, even when she was six. I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up. It was hours later. Elena and Alex had wrecked most of our crappy rented furniture, but the only thing I cared about was this. She frowned. "I'm not proud, but I screamed at them. Told them they were disrespectful then I sent them to their rooms and sat on the couch and cried."

"I'm sorry, Pen."

"It was a stupid music box. It was just one small thing we had that felt like home."  She ran a finger across the lid, remembering. 

“You doing okay with everything today?” He draped an arm around her.

“Yeah.” She nodded her head side to side, up and down, feeling like a broken bobble head doll. “Nah. Not really.” She swiped at her eyes. “I was so excited for this weekend. It feels like the quinces was yesterday, but I still wanted something special now she’s almost out of the house. Tomorrow half of Cubans north of Havana are going to be here. We’re going to be celebrating her and it will be amazing.”

He squeezed her gently. “It will be absolutely amazing because Elena has an amazing mom.”

She sniffed. “But then it hit me, she’s almost out of the house. Now I want all that non-special time back, you know? I want my Elenita. The girl who scribbled on music boxes and the walls. The one who curled up in my lap when she was scared or upset. She didn’t need a love life or a fancy scholarship. She was happy to sit at the dining room table, playing Candyland with her mom and her little brother, even though Alex always, always cheats.”

He pulled back for a second. “How do you cheat Candyland? And why?”

She laughed, lightly. “Yeah the Alvarezes can be competitive if you haven’t picked up on that.”

“Your family can be intense. Is there anything I can do?” He whispered into her hair. 

“Can you just hang out with us? Act annoying, tell stupid stories.” She held him closer. “I need my friend Schneider, okay? No big changes tonight.”

He rested his hand on her waist, but it was just gentle and reassuring. “Yeah. Doofus gringo buddy. You got it. I can play that role my sleep. No problem.”

She burrowed into him. “You’re not just my _bobo_ landlord. You know that. You’ve been a lot more than that for a while.” 

“You ready to face the living room again?”

“Nope.” She admitted, but she knew she was going to have to. Because everything was changing. Not just Elena, but Alex, Mami. There was no way around it, even if she was able to hold it off for tonight. 

The thing she really didn’t want to face is that they were changing. Because she didn’t want Schneider to give her a quick hug and a few kind words any more. She wanted him to stay in her bed all night and be there in the morning. But she couldn’t ask for that right now. Not yet. She wasn’t ready for them to be everything he wanted them to be. But the longer he held onto her, the harder it was to tell herself that wasn’t what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is - I have roughly written myself an outline to get to the end. I still don't know how many chapters it will take us to get there, but I have somewhat of a plan.
> 
> The maybe not so good news - I'm going to be doing nanwrimo this year (more as moral support for a newbie than anything else) so between that and the holiday season, I may go quiet for a while. Don't give up on me! I may try to post a short something, but I don't know if there will be a lot more big updates for the next month or so.


End file.
